


Time After Time

by impalagirl, wilddragonflying



Series: Roleplays [57]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Badass!Peggy, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, shrinkyclinks i love that name, teaches tiny Steve to be badass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 22:27:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10728537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalagirl/pseuds/impalagirl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying
Summary: The first thing Steve's aware of when the lights finally dim and he can open his eyes again is that, even though he's breathing incredibly hard, there's no accompanying tightness in his chest, no whistle in his windpipe. For the first time in his life, he's breathing hard without being on the cusp of an asthma attack.The second thing he's aware of, as the pod opens up and he can actually look down at himself, is that his body hasn't changed one bit. "Damn," he swears, still trying to catch his breath. "Guess I won't be winning any modeling competitions."Howard Stark looks like he's seen a ghost. "This," he says, "this, uhh, this wasn't supposed to happen."





	Time After Time

The first thing Steve's aware of when the lights finally dim and he can open his eyes again is that, even though he's breathing incredibly hard, there's no accompanying tightness in his chest, no whistle in his windpipe. For the first time in his life, he's breathing hard without being on the cusp of an asthma attack. 

The second thing he's aware of, as the pod opens up and he can actually look down at himself, is that his body hasn't changed one bit. "Damn," he swears, still trying to catch his breath. "Guess I won't be winning any modeling competitions."

Howard Stark looks like he's seen a ghost. "This," he says, "this, uhh, this wasn't supposed to happen."

"You think?" Steve says dryly, rolling his eyes - only to stop, blinking, when he catches sight of the pen in Howard's pocket. "What color is that?" he asks, probably a bit sharper than he intended as he points to the pen in question. 

"Umm." Howard lifts the pen out of his pocket and considers it. "Red?"

"Huh," Steve says thoughtfully. "So that's what red looks like." It’s a bright, _vibrant_ color; Steve rather likes it. 

"Wait," Howard says, moving closer eagerly. "You can _see_ that?"

Steve nods. "I've never been able to see red, or any of the colors derived from it," he explains. "My chest doesn't hurt, either, and I think my heart is actually beating properly for once."

"That's it," Howard says. "Everyone out! Show's over! The serum didn't work how we expected it to, but it _did_ work. Thank you for coming, ladies and gentlemen, but we need some time alone with Mr Rogers here to ascertain the actual results, so. Get out!"

There's grumbling, and Steve can see Peggy standing with her arms crossed, daring one of the assistants to tell her to move as Howard and Erskine start fussing over him, poking him and lifting his arms. "I'm not a marionette," Steve says irritably, snatching his hand back from where Howard has started to manually manipulate his fingers. 

"No," Howard agrees mildly, "you probably won't be, now. How's your hearing?"

"Everything's louder, if that's what you mean," Steve answers. 

"Interesting," Erskine hums. "Your records mentioned you were easily fatigued; I wonder just how much this has cured."

"Let's make sure that his chest can handle the strain, and then we'll see how he copes with some exercise," Howard suggests.

Erskine nods, and Steve sighs; this is going to be a lot worse than any other doctor's visit before, he can already tell.

* * *

Steve spends a week being put through his new paces; in the end, they're able to determine that Steve no longer has any health issues, his metabolism is now roughly four times that of the average human, and while he doesn't look like it, he can lift more than three hundred pounds in one go. It's enough to make the serum a success, even if the brass don't look at it that way. There's been talk about sending Steve to the front lines, though no one was able to decide in what capacity.

That talk gets put on hold, however, when they receive the news that Erskine has been found dead in his apartment. Assassination, most likely - all of the (few) notes that he kept on the serum are missing. The German scientist was the only one who knew the formula for Steve's serum, and without his notes, there's little to no hope of continuing the work on the serum. Steve's left floundering for all of three hours before an assistant pulls him into a meeting room; inside are Howard Stark, Peggy Carter, and Colonel Phillips. "Well, son," Phillips sighs, "we need to decide what to do with you; we can't just leave you to your own devices, not with what's currently swimming in your blood."

"We don't expect you to make a decision today," Peggy tells him with a smile, "but we've come to you with a few options."

Steve glances at the other men, who nod. "Okay then," Steve says slowly. "What are my options?"

"Well," Howard says brightly, "you could come to work for me. Let me poke and prod you until we know everything there is to know about the new you and then some, and maybe learn how to recreate the serum in the process."

"Or we could send you to the front lines as a soldier," Colonel Phillips says. "Nothing special, but it would let us keep an eye on you, and it would also let Stark here make observations about your skills in a real-life situation."

Steve hesitates, gaze flicking to Peggy. "And are those my only two options?" 

Peggy beams. "I was thinking along the same lines as the colonel," she says. "You're going to be vulnerable for the rest of your life - Dr Erskine was murdered for a reason, and you'll probably find that very few of the people who have as keen an interest in you as Mr Stark does won't be so kind as to ask nicely. I think it's essential that you learn to defend yourself, but I don't think it's necessary that you take to the Front if you don't want to. You could help the war effort in another way."

And _that_ piques Steve's interest; Peggy's right, he is a target now - has been since he accept Erskine's offer - and the only way he knows how to fight is back-alley scrapping, which won't save his life against an assassin. To be able to learn to defend himself while serving his country? That would be great. "What did you have in mind?"

Peggy settles back in her seat, looking pleased. "Secret service," she says.

"Like what you do?"

"Yes," Peggy says. "I can't guarantee that you'd be working with me specifically, but we'd likely be working in the same division."

Steve nods, pleased. "Then that's what I'd like to do."

Peggy practically preens. "Take a few days to get your bearings," she suggests. "We'll be in touch."

* * *

Steve spends the next six months training; he learns how to fight in a way that fits his body, courtesy of Peggy. It means that he's taught how to fight the way that women are usually taught, but Steve doesn't care about that, what he cares about is that it _works._ It's more about using your opponent's strength against them, about disabling them and outwitting them than simply punching their lights out, and Steve masters it quickly. He also trains in marksmanship, and while he's not as good at that, he's good enough to become certified for active duty. 

He and Peggy are assigned to the front in Italy, where a group of soldiers who had been captured by Hydra had managed to escape. "Which unit are these soldiers from?" Steve asks as they walk through the base camp, glancing around. He'd heard the stories of what the front was supposed to be like, but the reality... The reality is far worse.

"The 107th, I believe," Peggy says. "It's quite remarkable, really, how they managed to--"

"The 107th?" Steve demands, picking up his pace. "You're sure it’s the 107th?"

"Well, yes," Peggy says, perplexed. "I have it written right here. We were hoping to recruit some of the men who-- Steve? Steve!"

But Steve's already running for the tent they'd been heading for; he almost rips the doorflap off when he enters. "Is Sergeant Barnes in here?" he demands, uncaring of procedure for the moment. 

"Who the hell are you?" a young man in uniform demands hotly, but Colonel Phillips, who is sitting behind a desk, holds up a hand to silence him.

"Rogers," he says. "I wasn't aware you'd arrived."

"We just got in, sir," Steve replies. "Please, tell me Sergeant Barnes is in this camp."

Phillips sighs. "He was," he says. "You know him?"

"I grew up with him, he's my - my brother," Steve says, stumbling over his words. "Please, he's the only family I have."

One of the former captives gets to his feet then, a large man with a bowler hat and a mustache; when he speaks, it's with an Irish accent. "You Steve Rogers?"

Steve transfers his attention to the other man, nodding. "Yes, that's me."

"My name's Dugan, and I wish I had better news for you," the Irishman says, reaching into his pocket and pulling something out and handing it to Steve.

When Steve looks at his hand, he finds that he's now holding a set of dog tags. For the first time since he came out of the Vita Ray machine, his breath stalls in his chest, and he finds that he's having trouble drawing in air. His hand shakes as he turns the tags over, and he lets out a strangled noise when he reads what's inscribed on them. " _No._ "

"I'm sorry, Rogers," Phillips says. "Your friend was killed in action just before his men escaped."

Steve doesn't say anything for a long moment. Then he takes Bucky's tags and slips them into his pocket, straightening and squaring his shoulders, turning to face the escapees once more. "You were captured by Hydra? How did you escape?"

"Got sick of waiting for someone to swoop in and rescue us," Dugan jokes. "Overpowered the guards, shot our way out of the base, walked back to camp."

Steve can’t help but smile, even if it’s just a small one, at Dugan's candor. "Well, I'm sorry to say that we have to quiz you on your time there and anything you can remember."

"Long as you put the intel to good use, I don’t mind," a Japanese American pipes up. "Name's Morita."

The rest of the escapees introduce themselves - Falsworth, Gabe Jones, and Dernier - and Peggy and Steve spend the next several hours quizzing them extensively on the facility and the people staffing it, as well as anything that they might have overheard regarding plans; Falsworth turned out to be a gold mine on that front. He didn't know anything about plans, but he had been led past a room with a map in it. 

A map of what Steve and Peggy strongly suspect to be Hydra bases.

Falsworth is able to recreate the map, pointing out the bases' general locations. It's enough to work with; Steve and Peggy should be able to gather more intel closer to the bases to be able to pinpoint their exact locations. That takes up most of the evening, and eventually everyone retires to their tents; Steve's the last one to leave, reluctant to be alone with his thoughts after today's revelation, but eventually he can put it off no longer, and he sinks onto the cot in his tent, Bucky's tags clenched in the fist he's brought to his mouth, trying to stifle the sobs threatening to break loose as tears gather in his eyes.

 _Bucky's gone,_ is the only thing he can think as he curls in on himself, grief ripping through him like a tidal wave. _He's gone._

* * *

_Steve gets back to their apartment before Bucky does, even after filling out the paperwork that Erskine needed from him in order to get him into Camp Lehigh - which was in_ New Jersey, _of all places - on such short notice. The clock's long since chimed midnight when Bucky finally stumbles in, and Steve manages to look up from his book long enough to give Bucky a raised eyebrow. "I guess you had a good time, then," he observes._

_"Aw hell, Steve," Bucky complains, sagging against the doorway. "You don't get to sound all disappointed in me. You're the one who went home!"_

_Steve barely refrains from contradicting Bucky; it wouldn't do anything except start a fight, and that's the last thing Steve wants tonight of all nights. "I went home because the girl you set me up with wasn't interested in me - just like all the other girls you've tried to set me up with."_

__

_Bucky frowns. "I'm sorry," he says. "I don't know how they can all be so blind."_

_Steve shrugs. "It doesn't matter."_

_"It does," Bucky says. "You're upset about it."_

_"That's not what I'm upset about, Buck," Steve says, suddenly tense. "Just leave it, would you?"_

_But Bucky looks confused, almost upset. "Come on, Steve."_

_"What?" Steve snaps defensively, and then sighs. "Look, maybe we should just go to bed, Bucky."_

_"Yeah," Bucky says, dropping his gaze to the floor. "Sure thing, Steve."_

_Steve hesitates, though, getting to his feet and looking at Bucky carefully. "You okay, Buck?"_

_"I'm fine," Bucky says. "Just tired, is all. And..."_

_"And?" Steve prompts gently._

_Bucky looks up at Steve through his lashes, tries for a weak smile. "And I'm gonna miss you."_

_He misses the mark by a mile; honestly, Bucky looks a little like he's gonna cry. Then again, maybe Steve's just projecting. "I'm gonna miss you, too," he promises, moving so that he closes the distance between them in order to help pry Bucky off of the doorjamb._

_Bucky lets himself be manoeuvred, and leans a little too heavily on Steve as they head through to the bedroom. "Is it cold tonight?" he asks suddenly._

_Steve glances at Bucky. "It's September, Buck," he points out. "Not usually cold this time of year."_

_"No," Bucky says, "it was cold out just now."_

_"Oh really?"_

_Bucky heaves a sigh and sits down on his bed. "Come on, Steve," he says. "Humour me, would you?"_

_When Bucky looks at him like that, Steve finds himself folding faster than a house of cards in a stiff breeze. "All right," he sighs. "Budge over, then."_

_Bucky does just that, and actually goes so far as to wrap his arms around Steve once they're in bed together. It's not the first time he's done it, but it is the first time it's happened while Steve hasn't been sick or shivering so hard from the cold that his teeth are chattering. Neither of them mention it, though._

_Several long moments pass in darkness and in silence, until Steve thinks that Bucky's fallen asleep. Eventually, though, Bucky speaks. "You gotta look after yourself while I'm gone, okay?"_

_Steve's glad he's on his side with his back to Bucky so the other man can't see his face when he says, "Yeah, Buck. I will."_

_"I mean it," Bucky insists. "I'm gonna be real mad if I come back to you and you're dead."_

_"I'll do my best to take care of myself," Steve promises._

_"You'd better," Bucky grumbles. There's another pause, and then, "I am gonna come back, y'know?"_

_Steve closes his eyes tight, slim fingers gripping Bucky's forearm where it's wrapped around him. "You can't promise that," he whispers._

_"I can promise to do everything I possibly can to get make it home," Bucky says. "And if-- if in the meantime something happens, maybe you make it big with your art and suddenly you're rolling in cash or you meet a beautiful dame with perfect eyesight and you go off and get married, don't feel bad about not... Not being here when I get back. You're too good for this place, anyway."_

_Steve can't answer for a long moment, choking on some emotion he doesn't dare put a name to. "Yeah. I - I won't get married, Buck. Not without my - my best man." His tongue trips over the last word, so close but not close enough to what he wants to say but can't. "You're gonna stand up there next to me when I say my vows to whoever I marry."_

_Bucky squeezes Steve a little tighter and sucks in a ragged breath like he's trying not to cry. "I really hope so, Stevie."_

* * *

When asked about it in later years, Steve will never be able to remember with any clarity anything that happens over the next few months. He knows that they gather intel on Hydra - on Schmidt, the leader, and Zola, the head scientist, especially - and he knows that they manage to wipe just about every Hydra base in existence off of the map. Towards the end, they even manage to capture Zola, pumping him for information on Schmidt's headquarters, and when they have that, the group of escapees who had volunteered to be the ones to take down Hydra personally - the ones the newspapers and comics back home have dubbed the 'Howling Commandos' - lead an assault on the base. Steve and Peggy accompany them, fighting with the main forces that stormed the base after the Howling Commandos are taken in. At the end of that mission, Hydra is destroyed, Schmidt along with it - but at the cost of the Howling Commandos, lost to the ice of the Arctic Ocean when the bomber that Schmidt had been flying is rendered powerless. Steve and Peggy stay on the radio with the Commandos for as long as they can, talking about what they'll do when they get home, and when there’s a sharp burst of feedback followed by static, Steve and Peggy lean against each other and cry, even as the soldiers rounding up the last of the Hydra soldiers celebrate.

There are things to clean up, reports to file, and loose ends to be tied up, and when all of that’s over, Steve finds himself in one more meeting with Howard Stark, Peggy Carter, and Colonel Phillips. They start with a toast, one last remembrance of the team who had been instrumental in winning the war against Hydra - and in winning the World War, period. When he can talk again without his throat threatening to close from emotion, Steve is the one to break the silence that has fallen. "What now?"

"I don't know," Peggy answers. She sounds exhausted. "I suppose we could go home."

That doesn't sit right with Steve. "And do what?" he demands. "Sit on our asses waiting for the next Hydra?"

"Well," Peggy says, "ideally, there will never be another Hydra. But I don't suppose that can never be avoided, unless..."

"Unless?" Phillips prompts. 

Peggy almost smiles. "Unless we take matters into our own hands."

There's a pause while everyone considers that. "Find the little problems and take care of them before they become big problems?" Steve suggests. "I like the sound of that."

"I don't know," Howard says, frowning. "That's quite a task for us to take on ourselves."

This time Peggy does smile. "Well, we wouldn't be on our own," she says. "The Howlies..." She swallows hard. "There will be more people out there like them."

"More people who can die for us?" Howard challenges.

"More people who are willing to do the right thing, to put their lives on the line for the greater good," Steve answers. "We wouldn't ask of them anything we wouldn't ask of ourselves."

Howard's eyes widen. "I never said I'd be willing to die."

"You're a scientist, not a soldier," Phillips points out, not unkindly. 

"And if we're nipping things in the bud, they won't be as dangerous as what the Howlies had to face," Steve adds. 

"I wouldn't expect any of you to join me," Peggy tells them, "but I think this is what I want to do."

"I'm with you," Steve says instantly. "The world doesn't need another Hydra, and if I can keep someone else from losing their friend the way I did, I'm going to do it."

"You'll need someone with government connections," Phillips adds. "And I'm too old to go through another war like this one."

They all turn expectantly to Howard, who groans. "All right!" he says. "Of course I'm in. Christ."

Peggy gives him a small smile. "Thank you, Howard."

Steve grins. "Now we just need to hash out the fine details," he says. "You all know what that means."

"Paperwork," Phillips groans. 

Peggy actually giggles. "I'll go and put some coffee on."

* * *

It takes several years to get their organization up and running properly; the first step is agreeing on a name, and eventually the four of them decide upon SHIELD - Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. Their goal is to watch the world for the signs of the next Hydra, and solve any problems that the governments can't officially touch. The Allies are the first to adopt SHIELD, but gradually even those who had been part of the Axis powers concede the necessity of an independent organization to investigate some matters, and are soon sending their own agents to join the Allies'. 

Howard continues his experimentation with Steve's blood, trying to recreate the serum that he and Erskine had been working on, but nothing ever comes of it - at least, not that Steve hears. They do discover that Steve appears to be aging much slower than the average human; in the two decades since he received the serum, he’s only physically aged two years. Therefore, while his birth certificate says that he’s forty-five, his body appears to be of the opinion that he’s only twenty-seven.

Two years later, Howard marries Maria Collins Carbonell; Steve is the best man at the wedding, and he steals Peggy from her own husband for a dance, for old times' sake. It feels like time is moving on around Steve, dragging his friends - his family, really - along with it, leaving him struggling to catch up. He’s swamped with the same feeling five years later, on March 29, 1970, when - after nearly a day and a half of labor - Maria gives birth to her and Howard's first child: a son, whom they name Anthony Edward. When Steve is finally allowed into the room, Maria’s feeding the newborn, and Steve elbows Howard, grinning. "You've got a son, Howie." It’s an obnoxious nickname, one Steve first bestowed upon Howard when he'd tried to keep Steve for a week straight to run tests on him and - a direct quote - "be a convenient maid, coffee-fetcher, and blood bag."

For once, Howard doesn't even acknowledge the nickname, let alone bitch about it. Instead, he just beams. "You'll be godfather, right?"

Steve blinks, caught off-guard. "Wait, you - really? Me?"

Howard laughs. "Who else am I going to ask? Phillips?"

Steve can't help but laugh at the thought of that. "All right," he says, smiling as he looks back to Maria, where Anthony - _He doesn't look like an Anthony,_ Steve decides - is now looking at Steve and Howard through eyes squinted in suspicion. "I'll be his godfather."

Howard beams proudly. "You're a good friend, Steve," he says seriously. "And a scientific fascination."

This time Steve punches Howard in the arm. "Turn off your scientist brain and go hug your family," he orders, but he's grinning as he does so. 

Howard grins back and crosses the room to do just that. "You can get cuddles later," he promises Steve, without even looking at him. "It's my turn right now."

Steve smiles indulgently. "Of course."

* * *

Steve gets lots of baby cuddles over the next few years; whenever he gets a chance, he's at the Stark mansion, hanging out with Maria and his godson. Sometimes he does his paperwork, other times he's there on business to speak with Howard - though Howard is usually at SHIELD HQ more than he is at his home. This time, however, finds Steve entertaining Tony as the five-year-old assembles a model airplane. 

"So, what story do you want today?" Steve asks, settling into his usual position of tool-passer. 

Tony pauses in what he's doing to think. "Coley Island," he decides.

"Coney," Steve corrects with a smile. "Well, it started when Bucky and I both got bonuses at our jobs. We put some in our little savings box, and decided to treat ourselves."

"Was it a very huge bonus?" Tony asks, though he knows the answer.

"By today's money, it was only about two hundred dollars," Steve answers. 

"Is that a lot?"

"Back then it was," Steve answers. "We were ecstatic; we decided that after we put about half of it away to save for when I got sick again and couldn’t work, or if Bucky lost his job, that we'd go to Coney Island. The weather was perfect; warm, but there was a good breeze going to cool everyone off, and just enough clouds that the sun wasn't blinding every person in the park."

Tony has forgotten about his plane for now and is grinning up at Steve. "So what did you do there?"

"Well, there were games and rides, and we did as many as we could," Steve says thoughtfully. "Bucky actually made me ride the Cyclone, the biggest ride there. I threw up and then made him win me a ridiculously large stuffed cat." Steve still had that cat, actually. 

"Was it worth it?" Tony asks, just as the door opens and Howard Stark walks in.

"Was what worth what?"

"Daddy!"

Steve can't help but smile as Tony scrambles to his feet to run at Howard. "Going to Coney Island after Buck made me ride the Cyclone," Steve explains. "Afternoon, Howard."

"You threw up," Howard remembers, already disentangling himself from Tony so that he can cross the room and search distractedly through some papers. "Are you two having fun?"

"Yeah, Daddy!" Tony cries, unperturbed. "I made an airplane!"

"He did," Steve confirms. "All by himself, too."

"Really?" Howard asks, without looking up. "That's nice." Beside him, Tony turns to Steve for help.

Steve sighs. "Howard, what papers are you looking for?"

"Nothing important," Howard says. "I'll be out of your hair in a moment."

"But Daddy..."

"Howard," Steve says, getting up and laying a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You can spare a few moments. Tony worked hard on the airplane, and he wants to show it to you."

Howard sighs, and turns to give the both of them a faint smile. "All right," he says, "let me see it."

Tony gives a little squeal of delight and runs to get the plane, presenting it to his father with the utmost pride. "It's not finished," he qualifies when Howard takes it from him. "But I'm nearly there!"

"Yes," Howard says, "I can see that. It's very good." Tony nearly bursts with joy. "Except this wing is crooked, and you've somehow managed to put the front wheel on backwards." Tony's face falls.

Steve unrepentantly elbows Howard in the side, hard enough that he hopes it bruises. "It's his first try, and it is still unfinished," he reminds the billionaire pointedly. "He's done a good job so far."

"Yes," Howard agrees, but he's already given the plane back to Tony and has resumed his search through the papers. "Yeah, you're right. Good job, kid."

Tony looks down at the model in his hands. "Thanks, Pop," he says quietly, and turns away.

Moments later Howard straightens up with what looks like a form in his hand. "There it is," he says, with more feeling than he's expressed since he walked through the door. "I probably won't be around for dinner but I might see you later, Steve." And with that, he's gone.

Steve gives in to the urge to flip Howard's retreating back off, shielding the gesture from Tony with his body before going to comfort his godson. "Hey sport," he says quietly, laying a hand on Tony's shoulder. "I'm sorry about your dad's behavior."

Tony shrugs. "It's okay," he says. "I need to fix the wing."

Steve smiles sadly, settling next to Tony. "All right. Which tools do you need?"

* * *

Sixteen years later, Steve finds himself in the Stark mansion yet again, but this will be by far the worst visit yet. He doesn't look forward to giving the news that Jarvis has already guessed from the broken look on Steve's face when he lets the blond in. "Tony is in his room," Jarvis tells him, and Steve thanks him. 

Steve can already hear the rock music Tony's so fond of blaring through the closed door, and he knocks extra hard to be heard over the ruckus. A few moments later the music quiets and the door opens, revealing a somewhat disgruntled-looking Tony. "Steve," he says. "I didn't know you were coming over."

"To be fair, I wasn't planning on it," Steve answers. "And I'm afraid I'm not here for a good reason. Can I come in?"

"No," Tony says, a little too quickly, "but I can come out." He closes the door behind himself and he and Steve head down into the kitchen, where they sit down across from each other at the breakfast bar. "So what is it?"

And Steve, who was always the kind to jump right into a pool instead of wading in, who has always ripped the bandaid off, answers, "There's been an accident. Howard missed his check-in - he was supposed to call me before he got on the plane - and when I investigated..." It takes Steve a moment to get rid of the lump in his throat in order to admit, "The car had crashed headfirst into a tree. Neither of them survived."

Tony's whole body seems to crumple right before Steve's eyes. "Dad _and_ Mom?"

Steve nods. "I'm sorry," he repeats. Then, because he can't lie to Tony and because the youngest Stark deserves to know, he adds, "You aren't supposed to know this, but right now... The local police will rule this an unfortunate accident. But SHIELD believes it wasn't; Howard was working on something, something he was going to take to a specialized facility that had equipment we don't here, and that something is now missing."

Tony nods slowly, absorbing this information, and then gets abruptly to his feet. "I haven't offered you a drink," he says, already rummaging through cupboards. "Do you want anything? I don't think I've eaten yet, today. Jarvis, have I eaten today?"

"No, sir," is the answer.

"Then we need breakfast! Or lunch, I don't-- I don't know what time it is."

"It's just after one," Steve says reluctantly, getting to his feet as well. "Lunch would be great."

"Excellent!" Tony cries, head in the fridge. "I think we're stuck with grilled cheese; I'll have to ask Mom when the groceries are being delivered because--" He cuts himself off with a strangled sound, and looks up at Steve, stricken. "Oh my god," he whispers.

Steve steps forward, carefully reaching out to pull the younger man into a hug. "I know," he murmurs. "I know." Adjusting isn't going to be an easy thing for anyone who knew the late Starks. 

* * *

Fifteen years later, in 2006, Peggy calls Steve into her office for a confidential meeting. Steve arrives precisely on time, and when Peggy grants permission for him to enter, Steve does so, speaking before he's even really looked up from closing the door behind him. "What did you want to talk to me about, Pegs?"

"Could you sit down, please, Steve?" Peggy asks. "I've made some tea."

"Oh. Thank you." Steve has never really developed a taste for the stuff, but he does like Peggy's the best - as much as he can care for tea.

"Milk and two sugars," Peggy says thoughtfully, as she stirs both into two cups. "They call that builders' tea back home. All that's needed in a crisis; the solution to all your problems. Except maybe this one."

Steve studies Peggy carefully as he accepts the cup she hands to him. Her hair is more grey than brunette now, wrinkles lining her face in a way that only makes her look more beautiful in his opinion, and like someone who knows what they're doing and can be trusted to do the right thing according to most of the rest of SHIELD. There's something in her eyes, though - something Steve can't place. "Which problem would that be?"

Peggy smiles. "That serum did wonders for you, didn't it?" she asks. "You haven't changed one bit, to look at you, but you're in perfect health, and... Christ, Steve, you haven't aged a day. You're just as lovely now as you were the day I met you. You probably won't feel the bite of old age until I've been dead for years - if you feel it at all." Her expression softens. "But then, I suppose you deserve it. After all you've been through."

Steve shakes his head. "No, I've - I've aged some. Howard - " It took years before Steve, Tony, and Peggy could speak Howard's name without tripping, and Tony still can barely bring up his mother " - and I figured that I age a year for every decade lived. I'll die one day, Peggy. And living on long after my friends are dead? That's not exactly a gift." He smiles slightly, just an upturn of one corner of his mouth, but it doesn't cover the fact that he doesn't see his extended life as a gift; even Tony will most likely die before Steve will. 

"I know," Peggy says soothingly. "And I'm sorry, Steve, I truly am. I'll hate to leave you, as I'm sure Howard hated to. But you've lived a good life, and I know you'll continue to do so. You'll make us all proud."

"What's brought this on?" Steve asks, getting worried now. Peggy doesn't usually act like this.

The look in Peggy's eyes is unbelievably sad. "I've decided to retire."

If this was a movie, Steve would have just taken a sip of tea and performed a perfect spit-take. Since this is real life, however, his reaction is a bit less dramatic: He freezes, cup halfway to his mouth, looking at Peggy with surprise writ clear on his face. "You're retiring?"

Peggy nods. "I'm old," she says, with a slight smile, "and I'm not as sharp as I used to be. It's time."

It hits Steve then, hard enough to have him putting the tea cup down with a clatter, that Peggy is - shit, she's over eighty years old by now. "Did something happen?" he asks, once the second part of her sentence sinks in. "Are you okay?"

"Physically, as well as can be expected," Peggy says. "But mentally..."

"What is it?" Steve asks quietly. 

"Dementia," Peggy says softly. "Alzheimer's."

Steve indulges in a violent curse. "How advanced? Did you catch it early?"

"No one ever catches it early, Steve," Peggy says gently. "It's not horrific, yet, but eventually I will lose myself. It's better that I get out now, before things start to go sideways."

Steve - who knows how 'sideways' things can go without a debilitating degenerative illness in the mix - can't argue with her. "All right. Who are you picking as your successor? Fury?"

Peggy smiles. "Unless you want it."

Steve's eyes widen in horror. " _Hell_ no," he spits. 

Peggy laughs. "I have a meeting with Nicholas set up for tomorrow," she says. "I wanted you to be the first to know, and of course I wanted the chance to try to twist your arm. I didn't have very high hopes, though."

Steve smiles, chuckling. "You know I'm good at leading a small team, or working alone, but I can't make governments bend the way you can," he tells her. "I think Fury will be a good replacement, though. Not that anyone could compare to the original."

Peggy looks pleased. "You always were such a flatterer, Steve."

That gets a grin. "Of course. How do you think I convinced Erskine to let me into Project Rebirth?" he asks, fluttering his eyelashes in an overly-exaggerated way. 

Peggy laughs. "Now you're pushing your luck," she says. "Finish your tea."

* * *

_Two years and a few months later..._

"I'm going to fucking _kill_ him."

"It's probably not a good idea to kill your own godson," Coulson points out mildly. "Especially not after he got himself out of a heavily-armed insurgents' camp in Afghanistan."

"He got himself out in the space equivalent of an ancient diving suit," Steve growls, watching the video again. "And he _left a goddamn window_ for the only thing keeping him alive right now!"

"Well, he's just been released from medical; would you like me to have Natasha herd him to your office?" Natasha is one of their newer agents, and someone who has already terrified half of SHIELD and is working on the other half. A former KGB assassin, Steve has yet to have cause to regret allowing Clint Barton to help convince her to defect to SHIELD.

"Please," Steve says, grabbing his data pad and heading for his office, still fuming, albeit silently. 

Natasha does as bid, and she doesn't take her time about it; Tony crashes through Steve's door ten minutes later and flops down into the nearest chair with a grin. "You wanted to see me, boss?"

Steve glares at Tony. "Yeah, it's nice to see someone didn't shoot right at the giant window to the only thing currently keeping you alive," he snipes. "Jesus, Tony - I told you that demonstration of yours was a bad idea."

"Well, maybe you were right, maybe you weren't." Tony shrugs. "I'm alive, so I'd like to think of that as a point in the Me column."

Steve treats his godson to an extremely unimpressed look. "Are you going to keep the suit?"

"Probably," Tony says. "It's _awesome_."

Steve sighs. "Please tell me you'll upgrade it at least before you go jumping in front of bullets again. It and the thing keeping that shrapnel from reaching your heart."

"Well, obviously," Tony says. "I am a genius, you know."

Steve rolls his eyes. "Be nice if you acted a bit more like it, sometimes."

"Excuse me," Tony says, though he's not nearly as affronted as he sounds. "Did I not just escape certain death using nothing but my own wit?"

"Did you not get into that certain death through virtue of your oversized ego?" Steve counters, though he's smirking; the smirk disappears after a moment, however, leaving him looking at Tony with a serious expression on his face. "Are you okay, though? Really?"

Tony's own expression softens, and he nods. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, I'm fine, I swear."

Steve watches him carefully for a moment before he sighs and nods. "All right. But if you want to talk, I'm here. I can at least listen."

Tony's smile is weak, and contains none of his usual self-assuredness. "Thanks, Steve."

Steve smiles. "You're welcome. You're coming to dinner at my place tonight, no arguments. Bring Pepper if you want."

That has Tony brightening again. "Great," he says. "I'll do that."

* * *

Steve's seriously considering quitting SHIELD to become a farmer somewhere so remote as to have never heard of aliens before. Honestly, first his godson decides to follow in his father's footsteps and then blow past Howard's achievements by installing an arc reactor in _his own goddamn chest,_ then there was that shitshow in New Mexico that leveled a small town - though Coulson handled that for the most part, but Steve has read the reports. Fucking Norse Gods come to life, Christ - and one of them with a grudge match against his brother. Christ on a pogo stick, that hadn’t been a pleasant few weeks.

Then there was the fiasco with Roth and Dr. Banner, and Steve personally had to put Roth in his place to get the stubborn general to let the doctor go, to let him be SHIELD's problem and not his. But this... God, Steve never wants to live through something like this again. _Aliens._ Aliens from outer space, like some sort of real-life Galaga. Fury's harebrained 'Avengers Initiative' had worked - barely - and Steve had been on the ground fighting with Tony, Natasha, Clint, Thor(the one responsible for the disaster in New Mexico), and Banner. He'd taken charge at some point, and now Fury has assigned him to be the Avengers' official SHIELD handler. Like Steve doesn't already have enough on his - 

Steve pauses, key in the lock to his door, and frowns. There's nothing he can expressly put his finger on, but...

No, there it is: Around the keyhole, there's scratches there that weren't this morning. Steve's frown deepens, and his hand automatically drifts to the firearm in his shoulder holster, flipping the holster catch down and withdrawing the weapon, shielding it from the hallway with his own body as he eases the door open, then shut once again behind him. There's no sign of a robbery; all of his hallway knick-knacks are still in place, but Steve can't shake the feeling that something's wrong. His instincts have never led him wrong before, and he's not going to start ignoring them now. He starts trying to clear the apartment, but what he finds in the kitchen/dining room space stops him cold.

Sitting at his kitchen table, shrouded in shadow, is a man, dressed in full tac gear and then some; it looks more like _armour_. His hair is long and dark, and all Steve can see of his face is his eyes, glaring at him from over the top of a black mask that obscures everything else. A glint of metal draws Steve's attention, and he sees that the hand that isn't casually resting a gun on top of the table is metal, as is the whole arm. _What?_

The man clears his throat, the sound slightly muffled from behind the mask, and twitches the gun in his right hand like he decided a moment too late not to gesture with it. "I'd put that down if I were you."

Steve raises one unimpressed eyebrow. "There's a stranger in my apartment with a gun in his hand and more weapons on his person. My gun isn't going anywhere. Who the hell are you?"

A wheezing sound comes from the man that might be a laugh. "You don't recognise me, Rogers?"

"Well, since the only two assassins I know are an unassuming redhead and a guy with an arrow fetish, no, I don't," Steve says snippily, though his gun never wavers from where it's trained between the stranger's eyes - eyes that might look familiar, if Steve lets himself think about them. 

The stranger seems to mull that over for a moment, before he inclines his head and says, like he's commenting on the weather, "Even if I was unarmed, I could kill you before you even thought about pulling the trigger."

"Oh, so you're a telepath, then?" Steve asks sarcastically. "Seriously, who the hell are you and what the fuck are you doing in my apartment? If you were hired to kill me you're doing a shit job of it." Maybe it's not the smartest thing to do, antagonising an assassin, but Steve's already annoyed from the alien fiasco of only two days ago, he doesn't have the patience for this crap. 

"That's because I'm not here to kill you," the stranger says. "But if you want to kill me, I won't stop you."

"You haven't given me a reason to yet," Steve says slowly. "Besides sitting menacingly in the shadows. And you haven't answered any of my questions."

"I'm not a telepath," the man says, "I'm just real good at reading people. As for who I am, why I'm here..." He actually lets go of the gun, then, and lifts his right hand up to his face. When he draws it away, the mask comes with it, is dropped to the table beside the gun - and Bucky Barnes gives Steve what can only loosely be termed a smile. "I guess I was hoping we could talk."

It's only seventy years of practice that keeps Steve's gun from doing any more than twitching. Surprise washes over him, but a moment later it's replaced by fury. "I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but it's not funny," he hisses.

The man's expression flickers, a look of uncertainty passing behind his eyes only for an instant before it's gone again. "I saw you on the news," he says quietly. "I thought you were dead, but..."

"Yeah, well I _know_ James Buchanan Barnes is dead," Steve snaps. "So tell me the truth: Who the hell are you?"

"The Winter Soldier," the man answers instantly, his eyes glazing over for a moment. "The Asset. The _thing_. But I..." He swallows, returning to himself. "I think you used to call me Bucky."

Steve hesitates then; he knows that SHIELD has heard rumors of an assassin codenamed the Winter Soldier, but they'd always been skeptical. He was nothing more than a ghost story, created because there was no other explanation they knew of. But this man - who Steve can't bring himself to think of as Bucky, not when he's spent _seventy years_ believing that Bucky is dead - claims to be that feared assassin. "If you're playing a joke on me for someone, it's not funny, and I will shoot you."

"Then shoot me," the man says. "If that's what you want to do. Shoot me."

Steve goes so far as actually cocking the gun, but his finger hesitates over the trigger. "Are you _really_ Bucky?" he asks, hating a little how desperate and lost he sounds, but if this is Bucky, by some weird twist of fate, then - then Steve doesn't know what he'll do.

"It's me, Steve," the man says, and he sounds so achingly sincere, _so like Bucky_. "I swear to God. But what happens next is up to you."

Steve hesitates for several long, tense moments, and then swears under his breath. Natasha will probably kill him - hell, Clint and Tony at least will help - but he lowers the gun, flipping the safety back on before he slides it into his holster. "I won't be so easy to kill even without a gun," he warns, "and if this comes back to bite me on the ass, I _will_ kill you."

"I told you already," is the somewhat impatient answer. "I won't stop you."

Steve sighs, shakes his head. "All right. So where have you been for the past seventy years, then? I was given your dog tags, told you were - you were dead, and now you pop up in my apartment with a freaking _metal arm_ and claiming to be one of the most feared assassins in history."

Bucky shrugs. "It's true," he says. "I don't remember all of it, but I was..." He hesitates, frowning. "But you must _know_."

"I thought I knew you were dead," Steve reminds him, though he makes no move to get closer to the ghost currently sitting at his dinner table. "Your unit, they escaped from Hydra, and brought me your dog tags. They told me you were dead."

"They probably thought I was," Bucky says, still frowning. "Hydra, they-- they kept me, they did... things." He exhales sharply, shakes himself a little. "But didn't they-- How are you..?"

Steve sighs. "The night before you left for the front, we went to a science convention, and I ran into a man who worked for the SSR. He offered me a place in what I would later learn was a top-secret project, codenamed Project Rebirth. Its objective was to create an army of super soldiers, and I was selected as the first guinea pig. The serum didn't work the way they wanted it to - I got an enhanced metabolism, enhanced healing, super strength, and all of my medical issues disappeared - but before they could try again with a new formula, the lead scientist was assassinated and his notes destroyed."

Bucky seems to struggle processing this. "So Hydra didn't... take you?"

Steve shakes his head in the negative. "No. The only time I was actually in a Hydra base was when the Howling Commandos led the attack on the main one, at the very end of the war."

Bucky deflates all at once, then, until he's sagging against the table like it's the only thing holding him up, his gun and mask all but forgotten. "Good," he wheezes. "That's... that's _so good_."

Steve frowns, and dares to approach; he doesn't reach out, isn't stupid enough for that, but he does move a bit closer. "Why is that good?"

"Look at me," Bucky snaps. "What makes you think that anything they did to me was _good?_ "

"How did they get you, though? What did they _do_ to you?" Steve asks, can't help himself. "I thought - if anyone would have escaped, it would have been you. At the time, when they told me you were dead, that was the only reason I could think of as to why you wouldn't try to escape."

"Steve, they--" Bucky cuts himself off with a frustrated growl. "You don't want to know, okay? You can't know." He gets to his feet. "I need to get out of here."

" _No!_ " Steve yelps without thinking. "No, Buck - God, if it's really you, then you can't just, no!" He swallows then, and adds, "Please don't leave."

"Steve, I'm dangerous," Bucky says, sounding sad and so, so tired. "I came here because I thought they got to you, too. But you can't be around someone like me. You're too good for that shit. And I'd hurt you."

"You leave now, and it's gonna hurt," Steve says bluntly; he doesn't care if _that_ statement hurts, because fuck if he's letting Bucky leave, and if Bucky does leave, Steve's got no compunctions about making him feel guilty as hell about it. Fucking _seventy years_ almost, and this is the first time Steve's seen his face, seen any indication that the goddamned Winter Soldier is his best friend? "I don't care that you're dangerous, I literally just survived a firefight with aliens from the edges of outer space, you are by far the least dangerous thing I have seen in at least a month."

Bucky's eyes widen, like he's only just remembered why he saw Steve on the news in the first place. "Are you okay?" he rasps.

"Physically, I'm exhausted. Actually I'm exhausted, period. I watched my godson fly a nuke into outer space through a hole in the space-time continuum, and then fall out of that same hole after spending four hours and Christ knows how many bullets fighting aliens," Steve answers. He looks it, too; the couch in his office at SHIELD HQ wasn't very conducive to restive sleep. 

Bucky looks decidedly nonplussed by this information. "You should rest," he says. "Fuck the rest of the world, you need to sleep."

"Well that was the plan, but then my dead best friend decided to come back to life," Steve snarks. 

"So what, you're just gonna stay awake for the rest of your life?" Bucky snipes right back. "Go to bed, Steve, Christ."

"Who the hell are you to give me orders?" Steve demands, although it's without heat - and the only reason he's not freaking out right now is because he's literally running on ten hours of sleep for the last four days.

Bucky's gaze drops to the floor. "No orders," he mumbles. "Just... I'm supposed to look after you."

Steve frowns. "Why do you think that?"

"I don't know," Bucky admits, and he's frowning, too. "I saw you on the news, and I thought... And I knew I had to find you, make sure you were safe."

Steve nods. "All right. Are you going to stay?"

Bucky shifts on his feet. "I don't know," he says again.

"You're welcome to," Steve says. "I've got a guest bedroom you can use, or my couch is fairly comfortable if that's what you'd prefer. Or you can stay at the table, but I can't vouch for the comfort of that chair."

"You want me to stay," Bucky says, and it's not quite a question, but he looks unsure all the same.

"Yes," Steve answers, nodding for emphasis. "I do. I'd really appreciate it if you didn't just disappear for another seventy years."

Bucky nods, thoughtful. "I'll be here," he says.

Steve offers Bucky a smile, though it's weak. "Thanks. Help yourself to any of the food."

This time, Bucky doesn't answer. He just resumes his seat at the table, and doesn't look at Steve again.

* * *

Steve somehow manages to sleep without knocking himself out on the bedframe(something he actually had to resort to when Tony had been kidnapped), but it's only for a couple of hours, and then he's up again before dawn's broken over the newly-broken city. His phone tells him that it's just gone five in the morning, and when Steve walks out into the kitchen, he half-expects it to be empty, for the night before to just be a horrible dream. But no, there he is - he doesn't look like he moved much, if at all, but that is still the Winter Soldier, still _Bucky_ , impossibly sitting at his kitchen table. Steve makes himself some breakfast, along with some extra eggs and a sausage that he puts on a plate that he pushes closer to Bucky, before taking the only other chair across from the other man. "So," he says, taking a bite of his scrambled eggs. "Are you just going to hang around in my apartment all day, scare the shit out of anyone who enters? Not that that wouldn't be a great anti-theft system, but I doubt it's what you've got planned." If he has _anything_ planned; Steve has thought everything from the night before over, and it’s all adding up to something that makes him extremely uneasy.

Bucky is staring at the food in front of him like he's not quite sure what to do with it, but when Steve speaks, he looks up. "No plans," he says, somewhat stiltedly.

Steve nods slowly. "Go ahead and eat," he says, gesturing to the plate in front of Bucky with his fork. 

Bucky resumes his stare-off with the food once more, his expression doubtful, but then he picks up his fork and cautiously tries some eggs. An instant later and his gaze is darting back up to Steve, and for the first time he looks _scared_ , like he's expecting rebuke.

Steve, however, just gives him a smile before turning his attention to his own breakfast, making quick work of the eggs and sausage on his own plate before he pulls out of his phone, checking to see if there's anything in danger of immediate collapse. Tony's sent him several texts whining about being sore - _Serves the knucklehead right,_ Steve thinks a little vindictively, then immediately feels a bit bad for it - and Natasha and Clint have both sent him texts letting him know they returned to their apartment fine and were planning to get some rest before making up their own reports. There's a text from Fury, asking that Steve call him as soon as possible so that they can officially decide what to do with Loki, the alien responsible for the near-invasion. Steve's leaning towards letting Thor take him back to Asgard to be punished there; God knows no one on Earth actually has the technology capable of holding the slippery bastard if he doesn't want to be somewhere. Steve clears his throat before he speaks, and even then he doesn't look away from his phone. "I have to make a call; I'll just be in the other room, okay?"

Bucky hasn't moved since Steve last looked at him, but at this he manages a jerky nod. "Okay."

"You can keep eating," Steve says, a little awkwardly; he's not sure why Bucky would be afraid to eat, but it would fall in line with the conclusions he's already drawn. 

Bucky starts, but does as he's told, and half of the eggs are gone before Steve has left the room.

Steve's call with Fury is over quickly; the Director had been thinking the same thing Steve had, so there wasn't much for them to talk about, but as soon as they hang up Steve dials Natasha's phone. "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting something," he starts as soon as the line connects, "but I need your help."

"Nothing that can't wait," Natasha assures him, though she sounds slightly out of breath. "What do you need?"

Steve decides he doesn't want to know what he actually interrupted. "Have you heard of the Winter Soldier?"

"The Winter Soldier," Natasha repeats flatly. "Why are you asking?"

"I think I might have a lead on him."

"Drop it," Natasha says, and Steve has never heard her sound so cold. "Whatever thread you've got hold of, Steve, don't you dare pull. The Winter Soldier is not your problem, and you don't want it to be."

Steve sighs. "I don't exactly have a choice, Nat; _he_ is someone I know."

"You'd better repeat that, Rogers, I don't speak _dumbass_."

"He's Bucky, Natasha," Steve answers, and he can't identify everything in his voice, he only knows that right now he sounds very much like the child he hasn't been in decades. 

There's a soft sigh, and then the rustle of some kind of fabric, a muffled groan and, a few beats later, the closing of a door. "Steve, listen to me," Natasha says, her voice gentle. "Your friend is dead. You have to believe me. The Winter Soldier isn't him. He isn't even a man."

"That's weird, because he's currently sitting at my kitchen table and he looks an awful lot like Bucky except for the shiny new metal arm," Steve snaps. 

"He's in your _apartment?_ " Natasha demands. "Get the fuck out, Clint and I can be there in--"

" _No,_ " Steve says sharply - orders, really. "He's been here since last night and he's made no move to hurt me; he's talked about _protecting_ me."

"He's _lying_ ," Natasha insists. "He's saying what he knows you want to hear, what he knows will make you weak."

"Nat, please - trust me," Steve pleads. "I know what I’m doing, I'm not stupid enough to let my guard down completely, but I need you to gather as much intel on him as you can. Past hits, whereabouts, where he got the arm - everything you can get your hands on."

"He's Hydra," Natasha says. "He's the most lethal assassin the world has ever seen. He's a monster. That's my springboard."

"Has he ever been known to run a long con before?" Steve demands. "Actually talk to, get close to his target before he takes them out? The Winter Soldier may be Hydra, but Bucky isn't, and the man sitting in my apartment right now is not the Winter Soldier." 

"You don't know that for sure," Natasha hisses, but then she hesitates. "Are you both going to be gone by the time I get there?"

Steve glances at the door. "If you come here looking to put a bullet in his head, or have Clint put an arrow in his neck, then yeah."

Natasha sighs. "Stay armed," she says. "Check in every half hour. I'll call you when I've got something."

"All right, Nat; thank you. I owe you one."

"Just stay alive," Natasha snaps, and hangs up.

Steve sighs, pocketing the phone before he presses the heels of his palms into his eyes hard enough to have colors bursting behind his eyelids. _What the fuck have I gotten myself into?_

Bucky is right where Steve left him when he returns to the room, looking for all the world like he hasn't moved except for the fact that his plate is empty and he's looking a little green around the gills. He meets Steve's gaze when he notices him, but quickly drops it again, ducking his head in a surprisingly submissive gesture. "Are they coming for me?" he rasps.

"No, they aren't," Steve says, sitting back down across from Bucky. "They only know the Winter Soldier's reputation, so they're worried you're here to kill me, but they know I'm capable of handling myself, and I pointed out the fact that you could have killed me last night but didn't, and that the long con wasn't really the Winter Soldier's style, so they dropped it." Steve is fully aware that he's rambling a bit, but he can't help himself; it's finally starting to sink in that his best friend is not, in fact, dead - but had God-only-knows-what done to him by Hydra to force him into becoming one of the deadliest and most feared assassins in the world. 

"They're smart people," is all Bucky says. "They'll come eventually. And if they don't, someone else will."

"I'm not letting them kill you or take you back, Buck."

"They'll know I'm gone by now," Bucky says, his voice carefully devoid of emotion. "If they don't bring me in they'll kill me." He pulls a face. "Or they'll try."

"I'm not letting them take you back," Steve repeats, firmer this time. 

Bucky looks resigned. "You won't be able to stop them," he says.

"You want to bet?" Steve asks, raising an eyebrow. "I haven't gotten less stubborn since the war."

"You haven't gotten less breakable, either," Bucky snaps, but then he seems to regret it. "I-- I don't think they know you're alive. They might not look for me here at first."

"They probably will know," Steve says, not unkindly. "I haven't made any effort to hide, Buck."

"But..." And now Bucky looks helplessly lost. "They told me you were dead."

Steve frowns. "Do you remember when they told you that? Because I never died - I was never even seriously injured."

Bucky frowns, shakes his head. "I-- I don't..."

"It's alright," Steve hastens to say. "If you don't remember, that's okay. What do you remember?"

The look of concentration on Bucky's face is so intense it looks like it hurts. "Pain," he says. "Cold. Blood, I-- I killed a lot of people. You, sort of. Sometimes. Doctors. Handlers. They gave me missions, wanted me to..."

"Do you remember the names of anyone you killed?" Steve asks gently. "Anyone you worked with?"

Bucky flinches. "Not supposed to tell people."

"It's okay," Steve soothes. "If you don't want to tell me, that's fine. What can you tell me?"

Bucky takes a deep, shaky breath. "That I think they'd want me to kill you," he whispers.

Steve swallows, nods; it makes sense. He's the only success of Project Rebirth, and he’s the third-highest ranking agent in SHIELD, and has pissed off a _lot_ of people. "Can you tell me who usually gives you your orders?" If he can, Steve can pass that intel along to Natasha, and she can use that to locate more of the Hydra agents. And damn it, it pisses Steve off that that goddamn cult is back; he's going to find out who dropped the ball on that. 

Bucky shakes his head. "It's bad enough already," he says. "They'll..."

"Punish you?" Steve guesses. 

Bucky visibly keeps himself from reacting. "Yes."

"Well, I'll do everything I can to keep that from happening," Steve reassures Bucky. 

Bucky nods, though he doesn't look convinced. "So what now?"

"Well, now we work on keeping you out of the public eye, and I need to get into HQ later today. We're still cleaning up from that alien attack."

"Okay," Bucky says, but his eyes have gone unfocused, and it's clear he's not been listening properly. "Umm. Where's your bathroom?"

"Down the hall and to the right," Steve answers immediately. "First door."

Bucky runs.

Steve's confused, but not for long; as soon as the sounds of retching reach him, he goes from confused to concerned, but hesitates long enough to grab a glass to take into the bathroom with him before following. He fills the glass while Bucky vomits, wanting to reach out and comfort him the way he always used to, but unsure if the touch would be welcome now. Bucky seems to sense his indecision, because he throws out the hand that isn't holding his hair back from his face, and holds a finger up. A few moments later he's reduced to wretched dry-heaving, and a few moments after that he sits back on his heels, looking pale and sweaty. "Sorry," he croaks, without looking at Steve. "Wasn't sure."

Steve frowns, holding out the glass of water for Bucky to rinse his mouth with. "Sure about what?"

"Solid food," Bucky answers when he's done. "Can't remember the last time I ate any, but that doesn't mean I haven't."

"Why didn't you say something?" Steve asks, abruptly feeling guilty. "Would have given you something that would've been easier on your stomach."

Bucky shrugs, glances uncertainly back towards the toilet until he decides that it's safe to answer. "Like I said. I didn't know."

Steve sighs. "If you think something might be bad for you, please tell me," he says gently. 

"Why?" Bucky asks.

"Because I care about you," Steve says without hesitation. "And I don't want to see you sick or hurt."

"Oh." Bucky takes his time to mull that over. "Okay."

"You'll tell me?" Steve presses. "I don't care how little or inconvenient you might think it is."

Bucky nods. "I will."

* * *

They don't do much for the next few hours. Bucky seems tired out by their previous conversation and is unwilling to talk much, so Steve just starts rambling. He talks about the future and the past, telling stories that Bucky was by his side for with the same enthusiasm and detail as he tells stories from after Bucky fell. If Bucky remembers any of the ones he should, he doesn't show it.

What he does show, when he can no longer hide it, is his exhaustion. When he yawns for the first time, Steve stops storytelling and starts trying to convince him to go to bed. This process takes an entire hour, and whether Steve actually wins in the end or Bucky just gets sick of him and gives up, the end result is Bucky shutting himself in Steve's bedroom, and Steve will take it.

The phone rings ten minutes later.

Steve picks it up on the first ring. "Nat?"

"You missed your last check-in," Natasha says, a barest hint of irritation the only emotion in her voice. "I thought you were dead."

Steve swears. "Sorry, Bucky and I were talking." More like Steve was talking at Bucky, but still. "I'm alive and fine, I swear."

"I couldn't tell," Natasha says dryly. "I've got something."

"What'd you find?"

"Hydra knows he's gone," Natasha tells him. "If they don't already know where he is, they will soon. They want him bad, Steve."

"Are you sure?" Steve demands. “They’re after him already?”

"Apparently," Natasha says. "I told you he was dangerous, Steve. If he's Hydra--"

"No, he can't be - Hydra captured him, Nat. He fought _against_ them. You have to be missing something. How did Hydra survive the war? We - The Howlies wiped it out."

"Except that you didn't," Natasha says. "They took Barnes and they made him into their best weapon. And they're _coming for him_."

"Then find us a safe spot to lie low while we gather more intel," Steve snaps. "Because I'm not fucking giving him up again. If I'd known he wasn't actually dead - "

"I know," Natasha says, almost soothingly. "I know." She sighs. "I've already got somewhere for you to go, but you need to leave soon. We've got no way of knowing just how close they are."

Steve sighs. "All right. Give me the coordinates, and I'll get us there."

"I'll text you," Natasha says. "Get packing."

* * *

Steve doesn't wake Bucky, but he emerges on his own after maybe an hour, looking alert and on edge but thankfully less like he's about to collapse. "What's going on?" he asks, the moment he lays eyes on Steve.

"I heard from one of my agents," Steve answers, not looking up from where he's going over his weapons. "She confirmed that Hydra is coming for you - and fuck, I need to figure out how the _hell_ it survived or came back or whatever - and organized a safe house for us."

Bucky doesn't react at all except to nod. "When do I leave?" he asks.

" _We_ leave as soon as I've finished double-checking everything," Steve corrects.

"Oh," Bucky says, blinking. "Okay."

Steve glances up. "You all right?" he asks. "I'm not going to let Hydra take you back, not if I can help it."

Bucky actually smirks at him then. "Don't worry," he says. "Neither am I."

"Good," Steve says, nodding. "I'm almost done here, so we can leave soon."

"Is there something I can do?" Bucky asks.

"Grab the first aid kit from the bathroom," Steve answers. "I have one in the car, but it never hurts to have a spare, and I just restocked the bathroom one."

Bucky disappears without a word, and once in the bathroom wastes very little time in yanking open the cabinet and retrieving the first aid kit. Once he has it, however, he hesitates, before slowly closing the door and meeting his own gaze in the mirror. He flinches. This isn't Bucky Barnes, who Steve so clearly sees whenever he looks at this man. It isn't the Winter Soldier either, because the Winter Soldier would never be here, helping a potential target to pack so that they could evade his handlers.

He leaves before he can question who, in that case, he is.

* * *

Natasha's safehouse is located right on the edge of the city. It's an apartment building in one of the rougher neighborhoods, and she assures Steve that it's just temporary until the can get together a better location. Steve and Bucky have no problems finding the place while staying hidden, and Steve nods in satisfaction after inspecting the apartment thoroughly. "This will do nicely for a temp," he says. "She should have a better place lined up soon, but this will do for now."

Bucky has been looking around the room with a level of intensity that was, in days gone by, reserved only for food and the quickstep after several drinks, but now he looks up at Steve sharply. "We used to live in a place like this," he says. "Didn't we?"

"We did," Steve agrees. "After my ma died, we lived together until you got drafted."

"Not right after," Bucky says, and it almost sounds like he's bitching. "Had to wait until you nearly died that winter before you'd agree."

Steve shakes his head, smiling. "Yeah, my pride hasn't really gotten a whole lot better since then."

Bucky smiles back for a moment, but then he blinks, and shakes his head. "Sorry," he says. "I don't know where that came from."

Steve's smile dims until it's something quieter, sadder. "You might be getting some memories back," he suggests. 

Bucky frowns, struggling with something. "I don't want you to think," he says, and then stalls. "I'm not..."

Steve shakes his head. "It's fine. I know you're not the same person you were; it's been seventy years, there's bound to be differences." Even if one of those differences appears to be memory loss.

Bucky nods, relieved. "You're different, too," he offers. "I remember you... smaller."

Steve raises an eyebrow. "Really? I suppose I put on a little muscle, but I've never grown any taller," he muses. 

"Not smaller," Bucky says, frowning. "But... slighter. Weaker? I don't... You weren't strong. Were you?"

Steve sighs. "When you knew me, I wasn’t," he admits. "Then you got drafted and left, and I joined Dr. Erskine's program. By the time I made it overseas, you'd been captured and I was told you'd been killed."

Bucky looks down at himself, and then back up at Steve with a smirk. "Apparently not."

That surprises a laugh out of Steve. "Apparently," Steve agrees. "To be honest, I'm still not entirely sure I haven't just snapped."

"Neither am I," Bucky admits. "I didn't believe it when I first saw the news."

Steve hesitates, then asks, "What were you doing?"

"I had a mission," Bucky answers. "I was supposed to kill the target, but... I didn't."

Steve frowns. "Do you remember who the target was? Why you didn't kill them?"

"Because I had to find you," Bucky answers, without any hesitation.

Well, that doesn't answer Steve's first question, but he lets it slide for now. "Saw my face on the news and that was enough to break whatever hold Hydra has on you, huh?"

Bucky's serious expression doesn't change. "Yes."

That actually takes Steve aback. "Really?"

"I thought you were _dead_ ," Bucky says, and his voice cracks with some emotion that he's not even sure he can identify. "I thought you were dead and I let them _take_ me."

 _Oh._ "Bucky," Steve says carefully, "what did they tell you about me, to make you think I was dead?"

Bucky exhales a shaky breath. "That some experiment failed," he says, "and that-- that you wouldn't be a problem anymore."

"They were talking about Erskine's project," Steve realizes. "It didn't work the way it was supposed to - it was supposed to create a supersoldier. I didn't get as tall and imposing as they wanted, so the suits in charge of the Army decided they didn't want me. I got assigned to the SSR instead, worked with Peggy in intelligence. I didn't die, but the suits declared the project a failure, then Erskine was assassinated."

Bucky takes a moment to process this, his throat working hard as he tries to swallow past a particularly stubborn lump of still-unidentified emotion. "That makes sense," he says at last. "But it wasn't a complete bust, right? Is that why you're still..?"

Steve nods. "I got the metabolism, the strength, and the healing that I was supposed to; I just didn't get the body to match. Howard and I figured that I age physically one year for every ten years lived. Just about everything was enhanced; I think faster, my reflexes are better, and I have a near-photographic memory as well."

"What about your-- your health?"

"Everything's cured," Steve answers. "Worst I've ever gotten was a cold, and that was when everyone else in the office was nearly incapacitated with the flu."

"That's good," Bucky says. "That's really good."

"Yeah, it is," Steve agrees. "Took several years to get used to, though."

Bucky nods, swallows again. "I'll bet."

Steve regards Bucky thoughtfully. "Is everything all right?"

"I don't know," Bucky admits. "I feel..."

"You feel...?" Steve asks, quietly encouraging. 

"Like I'm two different people," Bucky finishes. "I know you, I even remember you sometimes, but I also know that my-- my handlers would want me to kill you. And part of me thinks I should."

Well, if the Winter Soldier works for Hydra, then no wonder Bucky feels like he should kill Steve. "You feel like you have to follow their wishes, make them happy," he guesses. 

"It's all I've ever known," Bucky says honestly. "At least, it feels that way."

Steve doesn't like it, but he understands it. "Well, you're not gonna try to kill me, are you? Because if you do, Nat's not gonna be happy. And she can be damned scary when she wants to be."

But Bucky doesn't take the joke well. "I don't know," he says. "I don't want to."

"But you think you might?"

"I _don't know_ ," Bucky repeats, frustrated. "I don't know anything about myself anymore!"

"Then this is your chance to find out!" Steve shoots back; he's almost yelling at the _Winter Soldier,_ who's wearing his supposed-to-be-dead best friend's face, the hell has his life come to? "You can't put me down as easy as you seem to think, Buck; you're not a danger to me."

"I could snap you in half with one hand," Bucky growls, waving his right hand in Steve's face. " _This_ hand! Why don't you understand that?"

"Try it," Steve challenges. "I've spent _seventy years_ learning to fight and defend myself, Buck, and I've got the advantage of the serum on my side. Odds are, I could fight you to a draw." Especially with how agitated and distracted Bucky is right now.

But Bucky doesn't try to fight him. He just deflates like all the air has gone out of him, and gives Steve an unreadable look. "Seventy years," he says at last. "Ain't you tired, Steve? I'm so tired."

Steve sighs. "I am," he admits. "But it's not like I've just spent the past seventy years in suburbia. I've done something with my life, Buck. I kept busy, I had a family - of sorts. It makes the time go by faster, and sometimes I can forget how long it's been."

Bucky nods, the movement jerky, and shifts on his feet. "Well, good," he says. "That's good."

Silence falls between them then, and Steve has no idea how to break it.

* * *

He talks with Nat that night, and she sheds some light on the deprogramming process, on how difficult it is to come back to oneself, and so when Bucky has a nightmare in the middle of the night, Steve knows better than wake Bucky up with his own touch. He wakes him up with a fully extended shock baton - with the electricity turned off, of course - instead, careful to keep his distance.

Bucky jerks awake, instantly wide-eyed and alert, but he doesn't make a sound. Without so much as breathing, he sits bolt upright, grabs the baton with his flesh hand, and yanks it out of Steve's grip with one swift tug. He doesn't arm himself with it, though; he throws it away, into a corner of the room still shrouded in shadow, and glares at Steve through the gloom. "What."

Steve hadn't resisted the shock baton being yanked out of his grasp; he'd expected it, and has an extra sitting in arm's reach. "You were having a nightmare."

Bucky sneers at him. "Get out."

Steve raises an eyebrow. "Get out?"

"Get _away_ from me," Bucky snaps. "Are you stupid? I could have killed you."

"I would've had plenty of time to react," Steve says dismissively. "That's why I was all the way over here."

Bucky barks out a harsh, disdainful laugh. "You think you're so smart."

"I've got friends with personal experience in regaining themselves after being programmed," Steve answers. "I'm just following their advice."

"I'm not some case study in a textbook," Bucky spits. "You can't fix me, Rogers."

Steve's eyebrow climbs up his forehead again. "I didn't say anything about fixing you," he points out.

Bucky just sighs, frustrated, and shakes his head. "Go to bed," he says.

"I was up anyway," Steve says, and it's not even a lie. He had been up, he'd just gotten back from the bathroom.

Bucky bares his teeth. "What do you _want_ from me?"

Steve doesn't answer right away, marshaling his thoughts before he says, "I want you to quit asking me to leave because you're scared you'll hurt me. If you want time to yourself, that's one thing, but I'm not going to leave if the only reason you're asking me to is because you think I can't defend myself against you."

"Okay," Bucky says. "Then get out."

Steve nods. "All right. Let me know if you want anything," he says as he pushes himself to his feet and leaves the bedroom. There's only two other rooms in the apartment, but one is the bathroom and the other is the living room, dining room, and kitchen all rolled into one, so there isn't much of anywhere for Steve to go to leave Bucky alone. He settles for the kitchen part of the outer room, making himself a mug of tea, just the way Peggy prepares it. Steve still doesn't like the stuff that much, but it's comforting; almost like she's in the room with him.

* * *

Bucky doesn't leave the bedroom until well after dawn, and when he does it's immediately clear that he's had no more extra sleep than Steve. He scowls as he moves further into the kitchen and helps himself to coffee, and he scowls as he sits down and drains the mug in three gulps, without a care for how hot it must be. Then he sets the mug down, and he scowls at Steve, like he's the world’s biggest inconvenience. And then he says, "I'm sorry."

Steve, who hasn't been terribly impressed with all the of the scowling, blinks. "Sorry?"

"You should go to bed," Bucky offers. "Get some sleep."

"Uh huh," Steve says slowly, studying Bucky. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," Bucky says. "I'll take the couch from now on."

"The couch isn't comfortable enough to sit on for longer than half an hour," Steve points out.

"You need a full night's sleep," Bucky says. "I don't. That way I won't wake you up and I won't kick you out when you wake me up."

"No, I don't actually," Steve corrects. "Benefit of the serum. As long as I have food, I can go with minimal sleep."

Bucky's jaw clenches, but he doesn't argue. "Fine," he says, getting to his feet; he slams the bedroom door behind him, just to be petty.

Steve blows a breath out once the door's closed. He's not entirely sure what just happened here, but it probably could have gone better. 

The next day, after getting off of the phone with Natasha, Steve finds Bucky in the living room, watching a news program. It's running a story on an assassination from the Cold War, one that's never been solved. Steve remembers hearing about it; UN Representative Jake Maury was set to propose some legislation that would have banned nuclear weapons worldwide to the UN, when he was assassinated as he walked from his car to the building. Long-range shot, no rifling, and the shooter was never found. They never even found where he'd shot from. 

Bucky's got an odd expression on his face, and Steve's careful to make sure Bucky can see him before he speaks. "Buck?"

Bucky doesn't flinch, doesn't look away from the screen, doesn't show any indication that he even knows Steve is there. But after a moment, he says, "I did that."

Steve glances to the television, where they're showing a muted interview with the victim's daughter. "You think you killed him?"

"I know I did," Bucky says. "I remember."

Steve swears quietly. "Hydra?"

"Who else?"

"Right, stupid question," Steve mutters. He glances at the screen, and then back to Bucky. "Any idea why they wanted him killed? Or who ordered it?"

This time Bucky does flinch, and he looks away. "I don't know."

Steve bites back a sigh. "Okay, well, at least we know Hydra killed him. You okay?"

"Fine," Bucky says, running a hand distractedly through his hair. Then, finally, he looks up. "Did you need something?"

"Yeah, Nat's gotten a better safehouse together," Steve answers. "We'll be moving to it soon."

Bucky turns away again. "You don't have to come with me," he says. "I don't really deserve it."

Steve barely resists the urge to roll his eyes. "I don't have to, I know that. I want to, though; you've been Hydra's prisoner for seventy years, and I'm going to do all I can to keep you out of their hands."

Bucky shakes his head, but he might just be smiling. "Why do I get the feeling you haven't changed a bit in seventy years?"

"Because I haven't," Steve says with a grin. 

Bucky's definitely smiling now, but it's a little sad. "I don't remember," he confesses.

Steve's own smile dims, but he just shakes his head. "It's all right. You're alive, and you're not under Hydra's control anymore," he says. "That's all that matters right now."

Bucky looks down. "You sound so sure of that."

"Because I am," Steve answers. "It's the only thing that matters for right now; once we take care of Hydra we can see about getting your memories back."

"Maybe," Bucky says, and gets abruptly to his feet.

"Are you alright?" Steve asks, but Bucky's already gone. Steve sighs, but doesn't make any move to follow; it'd just make things worse, and he promised Bucky he'd respect his personal space. 

* * *

That almost goes out the window when they arrive at the new safehouse Nat directed them to; when they investigate, they find that there's only a pull-out sofa with a mattress that shouldn't even be in one piece with how tattered it is and one bed with a slightly better mattress. Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, and after a moment of silence he says, "I'll take the sofa."

"No you won't," Bucky says, almost instantly. "Take the bed, it's fine."

"I've spent seventy years sleeping on a mattress," Steve points out. "I doubt Hydra's been so kind to you. I can deal with the sofa."

"I'm used to it," Bucky points out. "It'll be more comfortable than it will be for you."

"You're coming off of seventy years of kidnapping and torture," Steve argues. "I'm not making you sleep on that scrap."

Bucky rolls his eyes. "We'll take it in turns," he says. "Christ."

That doesn't completely satisfy Steve, but it's probably the best he'll get. "Fine. I'm taking the sofa first, though." And in the meantime he'll try to think of a way to get Bucky to just take the bed.

* * *

They spend two weeks at the safe house; neither one of them goes out very often, though Steve is careful to make sure when they do go out they're disguised as best he can manage. Being on the run offers them a surprising amount of time to talk and start trying to rekindle their friendship, and it even seems to be working. Bucky occasionally touches Steve now; usually just a light touch to the shoulder or arm when he wants to get Steve's attention, but Steve considers that enormous progress. 

It's through this touch, actually, that Steve realizes something's not right when Bucky approaches him while Steve is looking over a file Natasha had given him. Bucky touches his shoulder, and then freezes, his fingers twitching before he yanks his hand away quickly enough that Steve turns to look at him in concern. "Buck? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Bucky says quickly, too quickly. "I have to-- bathroom."

Steve wants to push, but he throttles down the urge. "Okay," he says, nodding at Bucky. He'll ask when Bucky gets out. 

But Bucky doesn't come out.

* * *

Steve doesn't go after Bucky right away; whatever he saw, whatever he recognized, it's obviously not something pleasant, and Steve wants to give Bucky time to gather himself, but when Bucky's been locked in the bathroom for going on three hours, Steve decides to make sure that at least he hasn't done a runner. He knocks on the door first, but doesn't try the handle just yet. "Bucky?" he calls through the door. "You okay in there?"

There's a long moment of terrible silence, and then: "Leave me alone."

"Buck," Steve says, as gently and patiently as he can, "talk to me; what's wrong?"

"I can't," is the answer, and the words sound choked, like Bucky has to force them out. "I can't."

"Can I come in?" Steve asks gently. 

This question is met with more silence, until the door unlocks with a soft _snick_ and swings open. Bucky is sitting on the edge of the tub, his shoulders hunched, his face hidden by his hands, which are fisted in his hair and pulling hard.

Steve has to stomp on the urge to rush in there and pull Bucky's hand's away from his hair; instead, he makes himself approach slowly and reach out, stopping just shy of touching before he asks, "Is it okay for me to touch you?" He keeps his voice soft as he speaks; he thinks - hopes - that Bucky trusts him enough to let Steve touch him. 

Bucky exhales harshly at the request, but he nods.

Steve reaches for Bucky's wrists, telegraphing his movements as he carefully pulls Bucky's hands away from his hair and cradling them in his own. "What did you see?" he asks quietly.

"I can't," Bucky says again, avoiding Steve's gaze like a spooked animal. "He'll kill me. _And_ you."

"Hey," Steve says quietly, giving Bucky's hands a gentle squeeze. "He can't find us here, whoever he is. Is he someone with SHIELD?"

Bucky hesitates, but he manages a shaky nod.

Damn it; the implications of that aren't good. "Did you see his picture in the file, or read his name?"

"His picture," Bucky says. "But I know his name."

Steve gets the sinking feeling he knows this man's name, too. "Pierce," he says, more of an answer than a question. 

Bucky drops his chin to his chest, lets out a long breath. "Pierce," he confirms.

"Well, shit," slips out before Steve can stop it. If _Pierce,_ one of the highest-ranking members of SHIELD, was Hydra, then how deep did it go? Steve doesn't break the silence between them for several minutes while he thinks, but eventually he asks, "Do you mind if I tell Natasha what you've told me? I trust her and Clint with my life, and they're in a better position to try to get more information than we are right now."

Bucky shakes his head, gets off the tub so that he can sit on the floor instead. "Do what you gotta do."

Steve lets Bucky's hands slip out of his as the other man resituates himself; Steve's reluctant to leave Bucky now, but he also doesn't want to waste time. He settles on pulling his phone out while he's seated on the closed toilet, dialing Natasha's safe phone from memory. "Nat," he says as soon as she picks up. "I've got good news and bad news."

"Speak fast," Nat says. "I'm a little busy right now.”

"Good news is I have new intel; bad news is, that intel: Pierce is Hydra," Steve says, trusting Natasha to understand the implications of those three words. 

Natasha sighs heavily, through her teeth it sounds like. "Fantastic," she says. "Leave it with me."

"Get Clint to help you," Steve orders. "Let me know what you find."

"I will," Nat promises. "Keep an eye on your guy." The line goes dead a moment later.

Steve sighs, pocketing his phone once again. He glances at Bucky, then asks, "How you doing?"

Bucky shakes his head wordlessly, his attention fixed on his metal hand. "He's my handler," he rasps.

Steve bites back another curse. "He gives you the missions?" he asks for clarification. 

Bucky nods again. "Among other things."

Steve's brow furrows. "What other things?"

"Punishment," Bucky says. "Wiping, and maintenence, and--"

"That _bastard,_ " Steve hisses, then reins himself in. "I'm sorry," he says after he's gotten himself back under control. "But I need to ask you if you could point out anyone else who might be working with Pierce."

Bucky shakes his head, swallows hard. "Not now," he says. "Please."

"You don't have to do it now," Steve says hastily. "We can take some time, but if you can identify more Hydra agents, that will give Nat and Clint more to go on."

"I'll try," Bucky says, and he sounds exhausted.

Steve's chest aches, and he nods. "Do you want me to get you something to eat or drink?" he offers, unsure of what else he can do to try to make Bucky more comfortable.

"Maybe some water?" Bucky asks. "I'll get up in a minute."

Steve nods, hesitating for only a moment before he lays a gentle, careful hand on Bucky's shoulder, squeezing with just the lightest pressure, before he leaves to fetch Bucky's drink. 

* * *

Bucky doesn't say much for the rest of the night, but the next morning he approaches Steve while he's making coffee and slams a piece of paper down onto the counter with a shaking hand. "That's all I can give you right now," he says, his words tight, clipped. "Names. Scientists."

Steve hadn't expected this, but he accepts the paper anyway. "Thank you," he says, skimming the list. He mutters a curse under his breath when he recognizes a couple of the highest-ranking scientists in SHIELD. "This will be very helpful," he says, looking back up at Bucky. 

"You're welcome," Bucky says, and turns away.

Steve watches him turn, eyes noting the stiff way he's holding his left shoulder, making his gait uneven. "Buck?" Steve asks, setting the paper aside; he'll take a photo of it and send it to Nat in a minute. "Is your shoulder bothering you?"

"What?" Bucky asks, distracted. "I'm fine."

"You're favoring your left side," Steve points out. 

"I'm fine."

"Uh-huh," Steve says, his tone betraying just how unimpressed he is. "C'mon, come sit on the couch."

Bucky glowers, but does as he's told. "What now?"

"Now," Steve says mildly as he comes up behind Bucky, "I'm going to give you a shoulder massage."

Bucky can't help it; he goes rigid.

Steve would have to be blind to miss it. "If you don't want me to touch you, then I'll see if I can dig out an Icy Hot patch," he says quietly, not making a move to get closer to Bucky not while the other man is so tense he looks like the least movement will snap him in half. 

Endless seconds tick by while Bucky deliberates, but then, finally, forcibly, he relaxes. "No," he says. "You can touch me."

"Okay," Steve says quietly, stepping up closer to the couch. "If you want me to stop, just let me know," he adds, carefully laying his hands on Bucky's shoulders, avoiding going too close to Bucky's neck for right now. 

Bucky sighs softly and lets Steve do his thing, trying to focus on not tensing up under his hands. After a while, though, his head jerks up. "You used to do this," he says. "After... after work?"

"Yeah," Steve says quietly, switching so that he has both hands on Bucky's left shoulder; the muscle there is knotted with more than just tension, and Steve's chest constricts painfully at what the scarring must look like. "You'd come home all tense, I'd give you a massage, help you relax so you could actually get a good night's sleep before you had to go back into work."

Bucky doesn't really know what to say to that, so he lets himself fall silent again.

* * *

A few days later, Natasha and Clint check in, letting Steve know that they've been called to rescue the _Lumerian Star,_ which has apparently been taken by pirates. It's a SHIELD ship, and Steve's not impressed with the fact that it's _trespassing_ , and if he weren't currently laying low with the Winter Soldier, he'd have already taken Pierce out himself. But they need the intel aboard the ship, and they need to know how deeply rooted the corruption inside of SHIELD is before they start purging it.

Clint's the one to meet Steve after Fury is assassinated. Steve's furious now; he _liked_ Fury, damn it. He was one of the few men that Steve could trust implicitly, because he'd been there for every promotion, every mission that Fury ever ran, and he'd been there when Peggy had officially stepped down and turned SHIELD over to the already-one-eyed man. Clint hands over the USB drive with the intel that they'd managed to salvage from the Lumerian Star, and Steve brings it back to the safehouse, though he's careful to keep it away from any tech for the moment. 

"We need to get out of here," Steve says as soon as he's back in earshot of Bucky. "I've got a lead, something I want you to help me follow. But I don't want to take the chance of booting up the program I need to access from this safehouse and burning it."

"What?" Bucky asks. "What's going on?"

"This drive," Steve says, showing Bucky the item in question, "contains information about Hydra and its plans. Nat and Clint gave it to me, but they're wagering it's protected by some sort of tracing program. Either way, I don't want to take the chance of opening it on a computer here and leading Hydra right to us. So we need somewhere public, somewhere where we can blend in easily to open it."

"And you want me to come with you," Bucky says. "Because I can't be left alone?"

"No," Steve says, shaking his head. "I want you with me because I trust you to watch my six, and because I can watch yours. I don't know when - or if - we'll come back here, and if this safehouse ends up compromised it'll be safer if we're both already long gone."

Bucky nods. "Okay," he says. "Now?"

"Yeah," Steve answers. "Hydra's already tried to assassinate the director of SHIELD, we don't have any time to close. Grab the essentials; we're headed to the nearest Apple store."

"Okay," Bucky says. He walks away, opens the door to the linen closet, and pulls out the bag he's had packed and ready to go since the day they got here. He hefts it onto his shoulder and offers Steve a smile that's closer to a grimace. "Let's go."

Steve gives Bucky a tight smile and moves to grab his own bag from behind the umbrella stand. 

* * *

Steve takes them to a mall, making sure he and Bucky get a near-complete makeover to disguise themselves; they're dressed like a couple of hipsters, and so far no one's given them a second glance. "Nat said there's a seven-minute window at most from the moment we plug this in," he explains, voice quiet as they enter the Apple store on the second level. "I'll have to hack the algorithm protecting it, so I'll need you to watch my six while I work the computer."

Bucky raises an eyebrow. "You can do that?"

"I didn't stay stuck in the forties," Steve mutters, but he's smiling as he rolls his eyes. "I'm not as good as Nat, but I can make do."

"All right," Bucky says, smirking. "Do your thing, grandpa. I'll keep an eye out."

Steve rolls his eyes again, selects a computer in the middle of the room - hiding in a corner is just asking for trouble getting out - and gets to work. Almost immediately, he has to work to keep a scowl off of his face - this drive has an AI unlike anything he's ever seen. "Fuck," he mutters, and immediately abandons the idea of cracking the whole drive. Instead, he starts looking for one piece of information, and has it in under a minute: where the AI and the drive originated. Steve yanks the drive out and pockets it, turning around and grabbing Bucky's hand, starting to lead bucky out of the store as an employee starts heading their way. "Walk with me; loose, relaxed gait," he murmurs. "We need to leave, now."

"This ain't my first rodeo, Steve," Bucky mutters back. "How many people have _you_ killed without ever being seen?"

"Seventy-eight," Steve answers without hesitating. "Put your arm around me, laugh at something I said," he adds, spotting a SHIELD agent looking around suspiciously. God, who the hell is training these mooks?

Bucky does as he's told, and they pass by unnoticed. "What, seriously?" he demands. " _You've_ killed _seventy-eight_ \--"

"Yes, I was an active agent for forty years before I got relegated to a more specialized position," Steve answers as they board the escalator. "And you only asked how many I killed without being seen. Kiss me."

 _That_ pulls Bucky up short, and he feels himself start to redden. "Steve," he says, "I don't think now is the time--"

"Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable, so shut up and kiss me or we'll be made," Steve snaps, and then reaches up and yanks Bucky forward himself. 

And Bucky could absolutely use the fact that he's always worked alone as an excuse, but really, he used to be a lot quicker on the uptake when he was the Soldier. Something about Steve has always made him stupid, a voice in the back of his mind tells him - but he ignores it in favour of bringing his flesh hand up to frame Steve's face and taking control of the kiss. If he's going to do this, he's going to make it good.

He does; Steve has to fight to keep from being distracted from watching the agent, and when they've passed Steve lets the kiss go on for another moment before he reluctantly pulls back. It takes a moment for him to school his expression and tone into something flippant. "Eh, I give it a seven," he says, forcing himself to ignore the way his heart is tripping over itself in a way that would've been worrying before he got the serum as they disembark the escalator. "Come on; we gotta borrow a car and head to New Jersey."

Even now, it takes Bucky a second to catch up, and it leaves him hurrying after Steve. "New Jersey?"

"New Jersey," Steve confirms. "C'mon; help me pick a good vehicle."

* * *

Bucky picks out a truck for them to 'borrow', and then can do nothing except sit back while Steve hotwires the damn thing without so much as breaking a sweat. Everything that Bucky has learned about Steve in the last two hours goes against everything Bucky thinks he remembers - and he hates it. He hates that either he isn't remembering enough, or he's missed the changes in the time they've been apart; he hates how foreign Steve feels to him now. Except that he hadn't felt foreign pressed up against him on that escalator. He'd felt just right, like he was made to be in Bucky's arms, like he'd been there a hundred times before.

And, well. That makes a certain amount of sense.

They're quiet for the first hour of the drive, Steve lost in thought and Bucky turning this new idea over and over in his head until he's confident enough to open his mouth. "So," he says. "You gonna tell me what that was all about back there?"

Steve flips off the asshole who roars past them before the passing zone even begins; honestly, Steve's going five over the speed limit, there's no reason for the tailgating and speeding past at upwards of seventy. "What part?"

"The kissing part."

Steve gives Bucky a questioning look. "I told you; public displays of affection make people uncomfortable. At such close quarters, it was the only way to get the agent to miss us."

"And that's all it was?" Bucky pushes.

Steve's proud of how normal his voice sounds when he says, "Yeah." Nevermind the fact that kissing Bucky is something Steve's wanted to do since the _thirties,_ this really wasn't the way he'd wanted their first kiss to go. 

"Right," Bucky says, his own voice suddenly flat, helplessly so. He's starting to realise that Bucky Barnes is useless when it comes to Steve Rogers, even when Bucky Barnes is buried beneath decades of conditioning as the Winter Soldier. He shudders and looks away, out of the passenger window. "Well, you need some practice. Was that your first kiss since '45?"

Steve snorts. "Nah," he answers. "Howard kissed me once, on New Year's, and I have been on a couple of dates in the past several decades."

Bucky feels cold all of a sudden, all the way down to his bones, like he used to right after they brought him out of cryo. He remembers that name. "Howard Stark?" he asks hoarsely.

Steve shoots Bucky a concerned look, but he has to return his attention to the road as he asks, "You okay?"

"Yeah," Bucky says. "Yeah, I... I'm fine. Tired."

Steve glances at Bucky, then at the GPS. "Well, if you feel like talking about it, we've got just over an hour left to drive," he says lightly. 

"Nah," Bucky says, turning away from Steve to face the window. "I'm good."

* * *

They're silent for the rest of the drive, Bucky pretending to sleep and Steve probably not falling for any of it. Still, Bucky's groggy when he gets out of the truck, stiff, and he rolls his left shoulder experimentally, turning away to hide a wince. "What is this place?" he asks, as he takes in their surroundings.

"Camp Lehigh," Steve answers. "Also known as the place where I completed basic and the first headquarters of SHIELD. Come on; we don't want to spend too long in the open."

"It looks deserted," Bucky says, but he follows Steve. "What are we expecting to find?"

"What I'm really hoping we won't," Steve answers, leading the way to a bunker. "Break that lock for me, will you?"

Bucky does, and throws the door open for good measure. He glances at Steve. "You ready?"

Steve sighs. "Yeah; as I'll ever be," he answers, then leads the way inside. They cross through a room full of desks, Steve leading them towards the offices. They'd abandoned this location in the early eighties, moving to Washington DC and eventually establishing a second headquarters in New York, and it looks like no one's touched this place since the day they left. "Down here," Steve says, then gets distracted by the pictures on the wall. "Huh," he says, laughing quietly. "I'd wondered where these went."

"Who are they?" Bucky asks. He recognises Steve, of course, and Stark - the man's eyes seem to stare into his very soul, and Bucky quickly looks away - but the other two he can't ever remember seeing before. "Should I know them?"

"You wouldn't have met them," Steve answers, shaking his head. "The man is Colonel Phillips; grouchy old bastard, but a good man. The woman... She's Peggy. Peggy Carter."

Bucky looks at Steve sharply, surprised by the emotion in his voice. "She was important to you."

Steve nods. "She's - my best friend. She's in her nineties now, and I've had seventy-plus years with her, but I'm still terrified of the day I'll get the call from the nursing home."

Bucky nods, looks away. "It must be shit," he offers. "Living forever."

"It is," Steve says simply. "I have so many opportunities to help people, but I can't stop them from dying of old age. If my body lives to be ninety, then I'll have lived over five hundred years, maybe six. That's a lot of friends I'll outlive. Come on; the elevator's over here." He leads the way to the elevator, not looking back at the photos. 

"You've got to be kidding me," Bucky says when they reach it. "A _secret_ elevator?"

Steve gives Bucky a tight smile. "We had a... project of dubious morality, in the eighties. Only the highest clearances knew about it, and that wasn't most of the agents in the desks outside of this office. Unfortunately, I suspect this project has now come back to bite us in the ass."

"What project?" Bucky asks.

"Project Paperclip recruited some of the most brilliant minds of the last century - that were on the other side of the war," Steve explains as he keys in the code for the elevator and directs it into a descent. "One of those minds was in the middle of a highly classified project - weapons development, his specialty - when he received a terminal cancer diagnosis. I... Well, Peggy, Howard, and I approved an experimental procedure to save his brain, his consciousness, on a computer. It was unnervingly successful, and after his project was completed I ordered him shut down. I suspect someone's booted him up again, to write the algorithm protecting the drive, and possibly do something far worse."

"Well that sounds fucking fantastic," Bucky says darkly, gesturing toward the elevator. "After you."

When the elevator doors open again, Steve immediately spots something out of place and swears furiously. "Damn it," he sighs, stalking toward the main computer terminal in the middle of the room. "I was hoping this wouldn't be here." 'This' being a modern port for a USB drive; Steve fits the drive Clint had given him into the port, waiting impatiently while the computer whirs and hums to life. He notices that the dust on the keyboard has been recently disturbed, and grits his teeth as he types in 'yes' in answer to the computer's prompt of 'Start?' 

Bucky has been looking around the room, taking in the sheer capacity of the machines that have been amassed here, but he looks down when Steve starts to type. "What are we expecting to happen?"

"This," Steve says, as the screen in front of him flickers briefly before a green and black image appears. It's of a man wearing a small pair of glasses, and when he speaks, it's with a Swiss accent that's _smug._ Zola's first words make him tense in alarm. 

" _Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes,_ " Zola purrs - there's no other word for it, and it makes the hairs on the back of Steve's neck stand on end. " _What a pleasant surprise. I hear you've been doing good work._ "

Bucky bares his teeth. "Good work my ass, you son of a bitch," he growls. "What the fuck have you done?"

" _I've continued the work Johann Schmidt started,_ " Zola answers, unflappable as he'd been when he was truly alive. " _When SHIELD recruited me, after capturing me in the Alps, I continued to work in secret, ever so carefully growing Hydra as a parasite inside of SHIELD."_

__

"Why?" Steve demands. 

" _To make history, of course, Mr. Rogers,_ " Zola answers. " _You see, we realized that we needed to convince the people of the world to hand over their freedom readily, after your insufferable Howling Commandoes destroyed Schmidt and sank the_ Valkyrie. _But to do that, we needed to control history. When those who were vital did not cooperate, we had to... Cut our losses._ " Pictures flash across Zola's screen, and Steve recognizes a shot of the day President John F. Kennedy was assassinated, zoomed in to a rooftop where the grainy glint of a metal arm can be seen, and then more news articles until something different comes up. 

Howard Stark's SHIELD file. 

Steve's heart almost stutters to a halt in his chest, but he forces it aside; seventy years of field work has taught him nothing if not to compartmentalize. "What's on this drive?" he demands. 

" _Insight,_ " Zola answers, still smug. " _For Project Insight. This glorious century is an open book, and I have taught Hydra how to read it. With this, they will no longer have a need for the Winter Soldier; perhaps Pierce will make a nice ice sculpture out of hi -_ "

Bucky's fist smashes into the image of Zola's face, shattering the monitor and effectively shutting him up, until--

" _As I was saying,_ " Zola continues, although he sounds a bit miffed now, " _with this program, Hydra will have no further need of the Winter Soldier program, because they will be able to be everywhere._ "

"The memory banks connect to the computer," Steve says, turning to Bucky, one eyebrow raised. 

"I know that," Bucky snarls, already moving. He doesn't stop until the entire room is destroyed, and when he does he's shaking, his right hand bleeding, the ghost of the Soldier behind his eyes. "You got anything else you need here?" he demands, harsher with Steve than he's been in days.

Steve shakes his head, giving Bucky space to come back to himself. "No; we need to get out of here, in case Zola sent out some sort of signal."

"Fantastic," Bucky grunts, and storms out of the room without so much as a glance at Steve.

Steve doesn't bother trying to talk to Bucky once they're in the car; instead, he calls Natasha. "Project Insight," he says as soon as she picks up the phone. "Zola created the algorithm for Project Insight, though he didn't actually say what it would do."

"Zola," Nat repeats, and swears loudly and fluently in Russian. Next to Steve, Bucky's lips quirk up at one corner. "Steve, it would be really helpful if your boy could give us some more names. I can't take this to anyone if I don't know who's on our side."

Steve glances at Bucky. "Is Maria Hill Hydra?" he asks; Hill is - was - Fury's second in command. Steve doesn't know her as well as he did Fury, but she's competent. Bucky doesn’t answer, and Steve drops it when a thought strikes him. "Nat, were there any unusually high-ranking SHIELD agents on the _Lumerian Star,_ someone you could interrogate?"

"I'll get back to you," Natasha promises. "Get me some names, Rogers." She hangs up.

Steve sighs and pockets his phone, turning his attention to the road for the next quarter of an hour; eventually, he addresses Bucky again. "You wanna talk about what happened back there?"

Bucky doesn't look up. "What about it?"

"What'd Zola do to piss you off so badly?" Steve asks; logically, there's only a couple of reasons, but Steve wants to hear it from Bucky personally.

Bucky laughs, sharp and humourless. "He turned me into the Winter Soldier."

"So that was fully justified, then," Steve muses. "Well, he had it coming."

"Thanks," Bucky snorts.

Steve glances at Bucky. "If you want to talk about it, I'll listen," he offers. "Or if you want something physical to distract yourself with, I've been told I'm pretty spry for a senior citizen." Tony, the little shit, had been the one to say that after the failed Chitauri invasion.

Bucky shakes his head. “ No thanks.”

Steve shrugs. "Offer still stands. I know how much holding in something can fuck you up."

"Whatever," Bucky says. "Let's just focus on finding out what he was up to so that we can so that we can stop it."

"He mentioned Project Insight," Steve says thoughtfully, dropping the subject as Bucky not-so-subtly requested. "It's Pierce's personal project, though Fury was working on it. I was working more with cobbling together what would become the Avengers team, so I didn't pay much attention to it, but the general principle from what I remember is that it was going to be used to take out terrorists and other threats without... Mother _fucker._ "

"Language," Bucky says mildly. "What?"

"Project Insight utilizes heavily-weaponized helicarriers to eliminate threats with minimal collateral damage," Steve growls. "If Pierce is Hydra, and he's in control of those helicarriers..."

"He can eliminate whoever the hell he wants," Bucky finishes, and he finally looks up. "Starting with you and your friends."

"It's not due to launch for another twenty-four hours at least," Steve says through gritted teeth, "but yeah. He'll start with me, then the Avengers, and then how much do you want to bet he'll aim those helicarriers at you right after he finishes us off? Then after you, he can take out whoever he needs to until the world is his. God _damn_ it, I knew I should have spent more time in DC last year."

"There's no time for that," Bucky snaps. "What do we do now?"

Steve sighs in resignation. "How do you feel about going to DC?" He's been hoping to avoid that, hoping that he can leave Nat and Clint to it and not get Bucky any further involved, but that plan is trashed now. 

Bucky sighs, looks down at his left hand as he clenches it into a fist. "I feel pretty good about it."

* * *

Steve gets them to the outskirts of Washington DC before he receives a text from Natasha; it's a set of coordinates, and plugging them into his GPS directs them to an old dam. Steve parks the truck and turns it off, then glances at Bucky. "Natasha and Clint are inside, along with a few SHIELD agents they know they can trust, and a newcomer - a Sam Wilson; apparently Clint and Nat picked him up at a club a couple weeks ago, learned he was military, and decided to recruit him to help with this," he says. "They'll know we're here by now."

Bucky is clearly uncomfortable, but he just nods. "Lead the way."

Steve gives Bucky a reassuring smile, reaching out to lay a gentle hand on his shoulder before he gets out of the truck, heading for the entrance to the small compound. They're greeted by Clint and Natasha, and Steve returns Clint's hug readily; he pauses when he catches sight of the way Natasha's studying Bucky. "Everything all right?"

"What?" Natasha looks at Steve, gives him a tight smile. "Everything's fine. Let's get on with it."

Steve raises an eyebrow, his 'I'm not fooled in the slightest' expression firmly in place, but allows Natasha to lead them further into the building. "I'm guessing there's a reason for all the secrecy besides the obvious," he says, "so all I'll ask is this: How pissed am I going to be when I find out what that reason is?"

"Very," Natasha says. "It's just through here."

Steve goes where directed, then comes to a near-screeching halt. He stares for a moment, then scowls. "Jesus, Nick, you look like shit," he says flatly. "When you get out of that bed I'm kicking your ass."

Clint grunts. "Get in line."

Fury snorts, then winces. "We couldn't be sure we could trust anyone," he explains. "Hence all the secrecy. Romanoff and Barton didn't know until earlier today."

"Right," Steve says flatly. "And you couldn't trust the guy who fought Hydra the first time around."

"I'm a paranoid bastard, you know this," Fury says dismissively. "Besides, you would have wanted to come down here. This way you were able to investigate the drive. What did you find?"

"Project Paperclip finally bit us in the ass, just like we feared," Steve sighs. "Zola created this algorithm for Project Insight. Did you two find anything out?" This last is directed at Natasha and Clint. 

"The algorithm is what they're using to target people of interest," Natasha supplies, "but it sounds like Steve's right. They're far more interested in people like us than the kind of people Pierce is actually talking about. Although for him, maybe it's the same thing."

"Bastard," Fury mutters with feeling. "Well, Hill and I have a plan; let me get a shirt on and we'll meet you all in the conference room."

"Such as it is," Hill chuckles. 

Bucky follows them from the room, feeling decidedly uncomfortable. "Should I wait outside?" he offers.

Natasha cuts her gaze to him. "Yes."

Steve looks sharply at Natasha. " _Nat,_ " he says warningly. 

"What?" she asks. "This is all highly classified information, and the last time I checked we weren't handing out free security passes to Hydra."

Bucky bares his teeth at her. "Actually," he says, "if Pierce is as high up the food chain as you say he is, it sounds like that's exactly what you've been doing."

"Enough," Steve snaps. "Bucky isn't Hydra, not by choice. I trust him not to go running off back to them. If he wants to, he might as well come in and help plan; he might actually know something useful."

Natasha rolls her eyes. "Fine," she says. "But on your head be it."

Steve gives Bucky a slight smile, tilting his head towards the door. "After you."

* * *

They argue for almost an hour before deciding that Steve and Bucky will take out one helicarrier while Clint and Sam deal with the others. Most of the arguing centres around whether or not Bucky will be allowed to go, and once that issue has been settled Bucky slips out of the room, exhausted and more than happy for the others to hash out the finer details without him. Steve can just fill him in later; after a lifetime of being nothing but a gun to be pointed and fired, what's one more day?

He doesn't notice that Natasha has followed him until she speaks. "So, how did you break it? The conditioning."

Bucky snorts. "What, so you believe me now?"

"Maybe." Natasha studies Bucky intently for a moment. "How much do you remember?"

"About what?" Bucky asks, irritated.

Nat shrugs. "Everything. Missions, your life before... Training me."

Bucky sighs. "I remember enough," he says. "Most days. But you weren't the one having their brain fried every other week."

"No, I wasn't," she concedes. Silence falls for a moment, then she asks, "Do you remember why you did it? Why you treated me like that?"

Bucky laughs. "Have I been keeping you awake at night, Natalia?"

"That'd be Clint," Natasha replies easily. "But I've always wondered. Kindness had no place in the Red Room, and yet..."

"And yet, you were a kid," Bucky says sharply. "They made me a monster, but I wasn't born one."

"You didn't treat any of the others like that," Natasha counters. "not the way you did me."

Bucky glares at her. "Does it matter?"

"In the grand scheme of things? No. But I'm curious."

Bucky looks away, grinds his teeth. "You looked a lot like my sister."

Whatever answer Natasha might have been expecting, that clearly wasn't it. Still, she manages to keep her composure, only raising an eyebrow as she asks, "Your sister?"

"I didn't know it at the time," Bucky bites out. "But since I got out, stuff's been coming back to me."

Natasha hums, then changes the subject. "You kill Steve, or get him killed, and I will rip your arm off and beat you to death with it. Just so you know."

The look Bucky gives her then is chilling. "I'm going to do you the favour of forgetting you said that," he says. "Your concern for Steve would be better spent on someone else."

Natasha isn't terribly impressed, though she notes that Bucky's stare is still as powerful as it was when she was younger. "No, I don't think so. They didn't program me as intensively as they did you, but I still relapsed. Almost killed Clint once, and he's pretty much the most important person in my life. That was over a year after I first broke the programming. So if _I_ relapsed, then your chances are even higher."

"How did you get out?" Bucky asks. "What made you break your conditioning?"

"They gave me too long of a leash," Natasha says. "Let me be more independent. I started thinking for myself, decided I didn't want to work for them anymore. I was already on SHIELD's radar, and when I decided to break away from the KGB, Steve and Clint picked me up, took me in."

"I broke mine for Steve," Bucky tells her. "I was working a job, saw his stupid face on the TV after that shitstorm in New York. Broke it then and there. Didn't even know who I was yet, but I knew I had to find him, had to keep him safe." He meets her gaze for the first time, head-on and unashamed. "Clint may be the most important person in your life now, but Steve has been the most important person in mine _always_. I'd die before I hurt him."

Natasha doesn't say anything for a moment, studying Bucky intently once more, but then she nods. "My threat stills stands. Steve's the closest thing I've got to family, and I know Clint and Fury will back me up if he gets hurt on your watch."

"If that happens," Bucky promises, "I won't fight you."

Natasha nods. "Good."

* * *

Once all of the planning is done, Steve seeks out Bucky. He finds the other man on top of the dam, staring out over the river. "Hey," he says, stopping a few feet away. "How you doing?"

"Can't complain," Bucky says, without looking up. "How'd it go in there?"

"Pretty quickly. Plan's simple, which is usually better; I've found the more complicated the plan, the more chances for shit to go wrong." Steve watches Bucky for a moment, then says, "Nat left in the middle of planning. Did she bother you?"

"That woman's been bothering me since the day we met," Bucky says, shaking his head. "But it's okay. She was just... concerned."

"She thinks you’ll turn?"

"I don't think so," Bucky says. "She knows what I'm capable of."

"She knows?" Steve prompts, sensing a story. 

"We've brushed elbows more than once," Bucky says vaguely. "She's seen me at my worst, but she also knows that I'm not completely dead inside."

"Ah," Steve says, then falls silent. From the way Bucky's phrased it, it sounds like he and Nat were _close,_ once upon a time. 

Bucky cuts his gaze sharply to Steve. "What?"

"Nothing," Steve says, a bit too quickly. "Did she yell at you?"

"Nah," Bucky says easily. "Threatened to rip my insides out if I hurt you, but that was pretty par for the course."

Steve groans. "Really?"

Bucky shrugs. "I told her she has nothing to worry about, but it's good to know anyway. Just in case."

Steve nods, but doesn't say anything for a long moment. When he does speak, it's to change the subject. "Have you thought about what you'll do after this?"

Bucky cuts his gaze to Steve. "What do you mean?"

"Well, we're gonna deal a massive blow to Hydra with this plan, taking out Insight, but what about afterwards? Have you thought about what you want to do then?"

"I don't know," Bucky says. "Not really thinking that far ahead. Assuming I don't die... I'm a criminal, Steve."

"You were brainwashed," Steve argues. "Nobody in their right mind will convict you."

"Maybe you're right," Bucky says, "but I gotta find that out, don't I? Can't just sit here and pretend it didn't happen."

Steve sighs. "No, you can't," he admits. No matter how much Steve wants to put that off, that sort of thing is best dealt with sooner rather than later. "Do you want me with you?"

Bucky turns to Steve then with a surprisingly vulnerable expression. "I can't ask you to do that," he says. "You're not an Avenger but you're close. I can't drag you through the mud like that."

"You're not asking, I'm offering," Steve says gently. "You were my best friend before, and I'd like to think we're at least friends now. After everything you've been through, you deserve to have someone at your side, and I want to be there."

Bucky nods, looks away. "Then I'd like that," he admits. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure," Steve says, stepping closer so he can lay a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "I'm not abandoning you again."

Bucky smiles softly. "Me neither, pal."

Steve smiles. "And what about after that?" he asks. "What'll you do then?"

Bucky sighs, turns his attention back to the water. "I don't know. Move to Romania?"

Steve gives a little half-smile. "You wanna get away from everything?"

"Maybe," Bucky says. "That so awful?"

Steve shakes his head. "I think it's a good idea."

"Well, we'll see. They might throw away the key when we're all done here."

"Nah; Hydra's got this coming, and once the world learns what the helicarriers were going to be used for, it'll understand."

"Might not understand the rest," Bucky says quietly. "I sure as hell don't."

"We'll bring them around," Steve says, quiet but confident. "You didn't do those things by choice."

"You don't know even the half of what I did," Bucky says. "You might not say that if you knew."

"Did you choose to do it or were you following orders?" Steve asks. 

"It was the same thing," Bucky insists.

"No, it's not," Steve says firmly. "You're James Buchanan Barnes, who was forced to become the Winter Soldier. Did James Buchanan Barnes want to do everything Hydra ordered the Winter Soldier to do?"

"No," Bucky says, "but he's not the only one running the show anymore."

"Hydra didn't give the Winter Soldier a choice," Steve says quietly. 

"I know that," Bucky says. "It's just not that simple."

"Well, I'll be here no matter what," Steve says. "As long as you want or need me."

Bucky smiles. "Thanks."

"I'm with you till the end of the line," Steve promises. "No matter where that is."

* * *

The mission goes off almost without a hitch; there's a few more guards than they were expecting, but with the four of them - Steve, Bucky, Clint, and Sam - hitting the three helicarriers simultaneously, no one has time to sound the alarm before they've reached the weapons control panels and replaced the targeting chips. The fight back to the ground is tougher, but Clint's got plenty of trick arrows, Sam bypasses security by virtue of shooting out a glass panel and then flying away, and Steve and Bucky fall into a rhythm that ends with any Hydra guards who stand in their way either dead or incapacitated - and in one or two cases, falling for the Potomac.

Steve and Bucky jump into the helicopter with Fury, making it to the top of the Triskelion in time for Fury to make an appropriately dramatic entrance and bully Pierce into helping Natasha past the retinal scan, to allow her to dump all of Hydra's and SHIELD's files on the internet. It's a full purge, one ordered by Steve. As much as he hates to see SHIELD fall, considering he's devoted seventy years of his life to this organization he helped found, he knew it needed to be pulled out by the roots if they ever wanted to be able to fully destroy Hydra.

Pierce blusters for a few moments, but falls silent when he catches sight of Bucky, standing behind Steve and just to his left. He doesn't put up any resistance as Steve takes him into custody, and the rest of the loyal SHIELD agents sweep through the building, eliminating Hydra agents wherever they find them. 

The rest of the clean up is hell, and in the middle of it the media starts crying for the crucifixion of the Winter Soldier. Some of the files that Natasha had dumped pertained to his missions, and now people are calling for 'justice.' Luckily the popular opinion seems to be that James Buchanan Barnes was forced into becoming the Winter Soldier - which is the truth - and that he deserves to be treated as the decorated veteran he is, not as a traitor to his country. But there's enough people calling for a guilty verdict and his conviction that Steve worries about them staying in any safehouse; luckily, Tony offers to put them up in the Tower. Steve has his own floor there, though he hasn't really used it much, and after the Loki incident, Tony had redone several other floors for the rest of the Avengers. 

Steve finds Bucky in an abandoned room in the dam where Fury had been hiding and where the last legitimate SHIELD agents were working from to track down the remains of Hydra. He knocks on the doorframe before entering, giving Bucky additional warning that he's no longer alone. "Hey," he says, stopping just inside of the room. "I've got something I need to talk to you about; is this a good time?"

"As good as any," Bucky says. "What's up?"

"Tony's offered to let us stay in the Tower, while this investigation is going on," Steve explains. "It's the most secure and technologically-advanced building in the world."

Bucky's jaw clenches before he can stop it. "Do we have to?"

"We don't have to, but I think it would be the smarter move," Steve answers. 

"Why?"

"Because if we disappear right now, even if only to a safehouse, that's gonna hurt the trial and the investigation," Steve explains. "If we go to the Tower, then that makes everyone feel a lot safer. No one can try to take you out, and they won't worry about the Winter Soldier still being on the streets. Once the trial's done, then we won't have to stay there any longer."

And that is a sound argument, very convincing - but Bucky shakes his head. "I can't be around Stark," he says.

Steve frowns. "Why not?"

"Because I can't," Bucky says, and he's backing away now. "Steve, please--"

Steve's torn, but... "It's the best option. And it's a huge building, you can avoid Tony pretty easily if you need to. I can ask him to give you space; he'll respect that." He'd better, anyway; Tony had only let Pepper close to him in the immediate aftermath of Afghanistan, and Steve would remind him of that if need be. 

Bucky's not convinced. "Maybe I should just go dark," he says. "This is a joke anyway; they won't find me _innocent_ , why would they? I need to get out of here, I need to get out of your life, fuck, I _can't_ live off of Stark's charity and look you in the face every day when I--"

"Hey, hey," Steve says, reacting off of instinct as he moves forward, reaching out to grasp Bucky's upper arms. "Buck, breathe, okay? I don't care what you did when you were the Winter Soldier, and you wouldn't be living off of Tony's charity. The floor is in his Tower, but it's in my name. You'd be my roommate, almost like old times. You don't have to go dark, and you've got the best lawyers we can find looking into your case. We'll get everything sorted out, and if you want to go dark afterwards, I won't stop you, but doing that now is only going to convince everyone that you need to be hunted and put down, and you'll never stop looking over your shoulder, and they'll never stop looking for you. But if you stay semi-public now, they'll be more likely to leave you alone after the trial."

Bucky grapples with himself for what feels like an age, torn between the urge to run away and the bone-deep inability to ever refuse Steve anything. At last, the latter wins out, and he gives in with a heavy sigh. "Fine," he says. "Whatever."

Steve feels a little guilty for almost strongarming Bucky into agreeing, but if it keeps Bucky safe, he'll deal with it. "Thank you," he says, offering Bucky a smile. 

Bucky doesn't smile back; he just pulls out of Steve's hold and turns away. "Tell me when you want to leave."

* * *

They leave for New York the next day; they're dropped off on the roof of the Tower by a quinjet, and Steve had already sent word ahead that Bucky wasn't up to a big welcome, so they're left alone as Steve takes Bucky to his - now their - floor. Steve gets their stuff settled, setting Bucky up in the spare bedroom and showing him where everything is, and when Bucky locks himself in his bedroom, Steve leaves him to it. Instead, Steve goes to catch up with Tony and Pepper, explaining what happened in DC and figuring out where the Avengers are going to go from here. The Avengers were established as an independent group, with Steve being the SHIELD liaison, so thankfully SHIELD's implosion doesn't affect the Avengers as a group, though it might affect how the rest of the world sees the Avengers. 

The next few weeks are hectic, and Bucky doesn't make things any easier. If he's not holed up away in his room, then he's short and rude with everyone, including Steve. He's tense anytime anyone tries to talk to him, and according to Jarvis Bucky's going through quite a bit of ammo down at the firing range. Eventually, Steve approaches Natasha. "Do you think he's okay?" he asks when they're taking a brief break from sparring. 

"Barnes?" Nat asks, like there's anyone else Steve could be this worried about. "Definitely not. Have you been paying any attention?"

"Of course," Steve says defensively. "But I mean, is being this... Snappish normal for someone in his position? I figured you'd be the best person to ask."

"I don't think anyone in living memory has ever been in 'his position'," Natasha points out. "But, educated guess? I'd say yeah. He's got a lot to work through, Steve. Did he say anything to you that day?"

Steve sighs. "He said something about not being able to be around Tony, but he wouldn't elaborate."

"Tony?" Natasha frowns. "Has he ever even met Tony?"

"I didn't think so, but why else would he not want to be around him? Unless maybe he's worried about past orders Hydra gave him?"

"There's a story there," Natasha says. "You need to talk to him."

"You're right," Steve says reluctantly. "But I don't want to corner him; I already convinced him to come here when he didn't want to."

"Well things can't go on like this, Steve. It's awkward."

"You're telling me," Steve snorts. "I'm the one living on the same floor with him."

"Then do something," Natasha urges. "Don't corner him, but try to engage him with something else and see how that goes."

Steve mulls that over for a moment, then nods. "You're right. I need to talk to him. I just hope this doesn't blow up in my face."

Natasha smiles. "If it does, I've got your back. Probably."

Steve rolls his eyes. "That's so reassuring, thank you."

* * *

Bucky is disturbed a few hours later by a knock on his door. For a good thirty seconds he considers not answering, but finally he gets up and opens the door; it's just starting to go dark, and it's gloomy enough in his bedroom that he can loom out of the shadows menacingly. It's the little things in life.

He's unsurprised to find Steve in the hallway, and he's not disappointed, either, but he still glowers when he asks, "What?"

"I was just getting ready to start dinner, was wondering if you had anything in particular you wanted," Steve asks, unimpressed with Bucky's looming. 

Bucky fights the urge to roll his eyes. "I'm good," he says. "Thanks."

"You sure?" Steve presses. "You've been avoiding well, everyone ever since we got here." _Even me,_ he wants to say, but refrains. 

Bucky's eyes narrow. "I told you I wanted to be left alone."

"Well, yeah, but it's been several weeks," Steve points out. 

"And?"

"And human interaction is good for you."

"You ever gonna get off my case if I say no?"

Steve shrugs. "I'll drop it for now. But I'll ask again eventually."

"And if I say yes?"

"Then I will be very happy and make whatever you want for dinner," Steve promises. "And leave you alone afterwards."

Bucky rolls his eyes, but relents. "Fine," he says. "How do you feel about burgers?"

"Love 'em," Steve answers, beaming. "You want yours burnt, still mooing, or somewhere in between?"

"Burnt," Bucky says, with the hint of a smile. "I've got enough blood on my hands; I don't need any on my teeth."

Steve grins. "Fair enough. I'll call you when they're ready, okay?"

"Sounds good." Bucky retreats back into his room, shutting the door between them, and sighs. This is just asking for trouble.

* * *

The burgers don't take long to cook, and Steve lets the two of them eat in near silence. He feels only a little guilty for how he's handling this, but he needs Bucky to tell him the truth. "So, how do you like the Tower?"

Bucky shrugs, keeping his focus on the burger he's still picking at. He's doing a lot better with solid food now, but it doesn't hurt to be careful. "It's fine," he says.

"What do you think of the firing range? I know Clint loves it."

Bucky nods. "It's good."

"Good," Steve says, letting silence falls between them for a moment. He takes a deep breath before he breaks it. "So, you mind telling me why you wanted to avoid my godson so badly?"

Bucky starts, his fork skidding across his plate with a horrific sound. "Your godson," he repeats. "Stark."

Steve nods. "Yeah. Howard asked me to be his godfather, Peggy to be his godmother."

Bucky nods, still doesn't look up. "I told you I have my reasons."

"Would you be willing to share those reasons?" Steve asks carefully. 

"I can't," Bucky says. "Trust me. It's better if I don't, okay?"

"Bucky, come on; whatever it is, I guarantee you it won't change my opinion of you," Steve says. 

"Steve," Bucky snaps. "Why are you pushing this? I can't tell you, you don't want to hear it, _please_."

"Because you're my friend, and this is clearly bothering you," Steve says. "I want to help you, Bucky."

"You can't," Bucky says. "You're not listening!"

"And you're not even giving yourself a chance to be helped," Steve counters. 

"You're better off without me," Bucky says. "Both of you."

"Both of - me and Tony?" Steve asks, confused. 

Bucky gets to his feet. "That's what I've been saying this whole time," he snaps. "You're not _listening_."

"You never said anything about _both_ of us being better off without you," Steve argues, but then something occurs to him, bringing him up short. A heartbeat of silence, and then, "Jarvis?"

" _Yes, sir?_ "

"Please keep the following conversation to yourself until I approach Tony about it myself."

The AI doesn't respond for a moment, and when he does, it's reluctant. " _Very well, sir._ "

Steve takes a deep breath then, and asks Bucky, "Does the reason you think Tony and I would be better off without you here have anything to do with Howard's death?"

Bucky stumbles backwards half a step. "Stop," he hisses. "Stop it!"

Steve doesn't follow him, but neither does he drop it. "Bucky, please answer the question," he says quietly. 

"Steve," Bucky rasps. "Please."

" _Bucky._ " Steve makes himself take a deep breath before asking again, "Did somebody order you to kill Howard?"

Bucky looks down, clenches his fists to keep his hands from shaking - even the metal one. "Yes."

In the span of a couple of seconds, Steve considers and then discards the idea of ordering Jarvis to lock down the apartment. The windows are damn near indestructible, but the rest of the interior is slightly less so. Instead, Steve focuses on Bucky, on trying to get answers. Howard had been his best friend, next to Peggy, after Steve had thought he'd lost Bucky, and even though he'd grown distant in the last few years before his death, losing him had still hurt. And now Steve learns some organization - not Hydra, or it would have been leaked with the rest of the files that Nat had dumped - had ordered Howard's death. "Who ordered it and why?" Steve asks, voice deceptively calm. It's the voice he uses when interrogating captured suspects, the one that gives nothing away. 

Bucky actually flinches, but he does answer. "The Russians," he says. "I don't know why."

Steve blows out a breath. "Howard was working on a top-secret project, the results of which were in the car that night. When we found the wreck, those results were missing. Did you take them?"

"Yes."

" _Jesus._ " It escapes Steve on a rough exhalation before he can catch it, and Steve has to squeeze his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shoves down the hurt, the irrational betrayal. Bucky didn't have a choice in the matter, not when he was the Winter Soldier. They'd reviewed Hydra's records, which included Bucky's... _conditioning,_ and anyone with half a brain cell could see the end result: A trigger phrase was given, and Bucky became nothing more than a puppet. Odds were the Russians had changed the phrase, to prevent Hydra from stealing back their asset before the Russians were done with him, but still. 

Steve forces himself to take a couple more deep breaths, to quit acting like the co-founder of SHIELD and more like Bucky's friend, but he's been doing the former for longer than he ever did the latter, and he's not sure how successful he is. "That's why you didn't want to come here," he says quietly. "You don't want Tony to know."

Bucky sighs, shakes his head. "He can know," he says. "He should know. He should get the chance to take his revenge."

"Take his - Bucky, no," Steve protests, distressed. "You don't have to let Tony do anything to you, and I'm sure as hell not going to! If he takes his revenge against anyone, it'll be Hydra."

"Don't, Steve," Bucky says, and he sounds exhausted.

"I'm not going to let Tony hurt you over something Hydra made you do," Steve argues. 

"What about you?" Bucky asks. "He was your best friend. They made you the godfather of their kid, for fuck's sake."

"Oh, I'm pissed," Steve admits easily, because he is, he's _furious,_ and he's probably gonna go kill a few training dummies in incredibly violent ways later tonight before focusing on absolutely destroying Hydra and anything associated with it, the way he should have done in the war. "But right now, I'm more concerned with how Tony's going to take this when I tell him. He wasn't close to Howard, but he was close to Maria, and it damned near destroyed him when she died."

Bucky nods, swallows hard. "You should tell him," he says. "Or I can."

"No, I'll tell him," Steve says sharply. "He should hear it from me, not..." _Not the man who killed them._

"Of course," Bucky says, backing towards the door. "I'm gonna--"

Steve doesn't even nod, just turns away to start cleaning up the table, giving himself some time to gather his thoughts before he approaches Tony. 

* * *

By the time Steve feels ready to talk to Tony, it's past midnight. Jarvis tells Steve that Tony's in his lab, and Steve hesitates before asking Jarvis to ask Tony to come up to his floor, where Steve will meet him. Jarvis passes along Tony's agreement, and Steve brings some of the leftover cheeseburgers as an apology for what's about to happen. 

Tony's private floor is not as ostentatious as one would expect; certainly not as much as his Malibu home. It's almost cozy, and Steve has always envied Tony's sense of style; Steve's has never gotten any better. They eat in a companionable silence, but eventually Steve breaks it. "I have something I need to talk to you about," he says. "And I need you to promise that you will stay on this floor and hear me out before you do anything."

"That sounds ominous," Tony says, eyebrows raised. "Spill."

Steve sighs. "I found out what happened to your parents," he says, deciding it's best to just rip the metaphorical bandaid off. 

Tony goes very still. "What?"

"It wasn't an accident," Steve explains. "They were killed for what Howard was working on."

"I know that," Tony says, irritated. "Haven't you told me this already?"

"It was ordered by an independent Russian group." Steve takes a deep breath, and confesses the worst part: "They had control of the Winter Soldier at the time."

Tony inhales sharply. "So," he says. "So. Bucky?"

Steve nods. "He was ordered to retrieve Howard's work; it's safe to assume he was to leave no witnesses. And with what they'd done to him..."

"Right," Tony says, sounding strangely hollow. "Okay."

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry," Steve says quietly. 

"It's not worth a whole lot, though, is it?" Tony asks, and he looks mortified when his voice breaks. "My childhood hero _killed_ my--"

Steve's up and moving around the table before Tony's finished speaking, wrapping his arms around his godson. "I know," he murmurs. 

"He didn't mean it, right?" Tony asks, sounding small and insecure and more vulnerable than he's allowed himself to feel in years. "Please tell me that the man you-- that _your_ Bucky didn't murder my mom."

"He didn't," Steve says, quietly but no less sure. "He wasn't anything more than the weapon Hydra pointed at them; I'm going to find whoever gave those orders, I promise you that."

Tony nods, and he thinks he can be forgiven for sliding his arms around Steve's waist, hugging back just as tight. "Is he okay?" he asks, almost whispers.

Steve sighs. "He feels guilty as hell, and I don't think I helped when he told me. When I pushed him into telling me."

Tony sniffles, nods. "You should talk to him," he says. "Just, not yet."

"I'm not going anywhere just yet," Steve promises. "I'm not going to leave tonight, if you don't want me to."

"Please," Tony mumbles. "My mom..."

Steve's hold on Tony tightens, and he rubs Tony's shoulder comfortingly. "I know. I'm here."

* * *

Steve doesn't return to his floor until the next afternoon, and when he does he makes a beeline for Bucky's room, intent on apologizing for his behavior the night before, but the sight that greets him though the open door stops him in his tracks. Bucky's bed is made up neatly, but several drawers on the dresser are hanging open, and there's a military backpack on the bed already stuffed. "Bucky?" Steve calls, a bit worried. "What's all this?"

"Was gonna split," Bucky answers, appearing behind Steve. He slides past him, into the room, and shoulders the backpack before turning to face him. "But then I figured I owed you the satisfaction."

"The satisfaction?" Steve echoes, bewildered. "Of what?"

"Of telling me to leave."

"Tell you to - Why would I tell you to leave?" Steve demands, even more confused now. 

"Well, I doubt you want me around now," Bucky says. "So what else are you going to say? Unless you're here to..."

"Of course I still want you around!" Steve protests. "Look, I came to apologize. I reacted badly last night."

"I murdered your best friend," Bucky says. "You had every right to shoot me where I stood."

"You did it while you were under the Russians' control," Steve argues. "You may have pulled the trigger, so to speak, but it wasn't your fault. The fault lies with whoever gave you the orders to do it."

Bucky snorts. "How long will you have to tell yourself that before you believe it?"

"I didn't have to tell myself that any," Steve retorts. "I've believed it since I found out what Hydra did to you. Nothing anyone made you do while you were the Winter Soldier is your fault."

"Doesn't change the fact that I did it, though," Bucky says. "It's okay, Steve."

"No, it's not," Steve argues. "Look, I know I didn't exactly have the best reaction last night, but _I don't blame you._ And neither does Tony. We blame Hydra and the Russians, not you."

Bucky shakes his head. "I don't-- I don't understand."

Steve sighs. "Hydra forced you to become their weapon," he says gently. "You don't blame the weapon for killing someone; you blame the person who wielded it. I told Tony stories about you while he was growing up, and he knows that you - Bucky Barnes, not the Winter Soldier - would never have done what the Winter Soldier was forced to do."

"I'm not that man anymore," Bucky says softly.

"No, you're not," Steve agrees. "But you're also not the Winter Soldier."

"I don't want to be," Bucky admits.

Steve dares to offer Bucky a small, reassuring smile. "You don't have to be," he promises. 

Bucky blows out a breath, shuffles awkwardly on his feet. "So what now?"

"Tony wants to meet you," Steve says. "Not to beat you up, or anything like that. He just wants to meet you. And I'm personally hoping you'll stick around for a while."

Bucky can't even begin to understand that, but he can't say no. "Okay," he says. "I... For now."

Steve grins. "Great," he says sincerely. "Just let me know when you want to meet Tony, all right?"

"Whenever he wants," Bucky says, without hesitation. "He gets to make the terms."

Steve raises an eyebrow, but doesn't comment. "How about he comes to dinner tonight? Just the three of us."

Bucky blanches - but he did say... "If he wants to,"he agrees.

Steve, however, frowns. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Bucky says. "Just, it's soon. Don't rush him, if he needs more time."

"He's been wanting to meet you since he was five; that hasn't changed," Steve points out. "But I'll talk to him, see how he feels."

Bucky smiles, a sad, ghost of a thing. "Good."

"But your comfort's important too," Steve insists. "If you don't feel up to meeting Tony, just let me know, okay?"

"You don't have to worry about me, Rogers."

Steve smiles. "No, I do," he disagrees. "You're my friend, remember?"

"Something like that," Bucky agrees.

Steve doesn't push the issue. "Well, I'll ask Tony when he's free, and if that works for you, too, then we can set something up."

Bucky nods. "Sure."

* * *

The three of them set up a meeting for the next week; they decide on dinner on the communal floor, while the rest of the Avengers are off on various missions. Steve knocks on Bucky's door when it's nearly time for them to go, calling through it to ask, "You ready in there?"

"As I'll ever be," Bucky says. He opens the door. "I'm more jittery than I was on my first date."

"To be fair, Marge was already pretty damn impressed with you," Steve says with a grin. "But so is Tony. You'll be fine."

"We'll see," Bucky says, but he smiles back. "We goin'?"

"Yeah, we're going," Steve says, reaching out to straighten Bucky's collar. "Come on; I think Tony's waiting for us."

Tony is indeed waiting for them, and Bucky stalls halfway into the room. "Stark," he says.

"Barnes," Tony replies. And then, apropos of nothing, "Do you know what Stark Industries did, before I bullied the board into focusing on clean energy?"

Unsure, Bucky glances at Steve. "Um."

"Stark Industries was first built as a weapons manufacturer," Tony says matter-of-factly. "I built some of the worst, but I assumed I was building them for my country. To take out terrorists. Turns out, the board and several other top members had been making deals behind my back - not that I'd paid much attention to anything but the tech to begin with. The weapons I was making were being sold to the terrorists I thought they'd be defeating." A wry, self-deprecating smile twists his mouth. 

"Oh," Bucky says, his eyes wide. "Shit."

"Yeah," Tony answers. "So I know a bit about feeling guilty for deaths that weren't your fault. Do you like grilled cheese sandwiches?"

"Yeah," Bucky says, still reeling. "Stark, I--"

"Did you really drag Steve onto the Cyclone, or did Steve just not want to admit he was that reckless even before the serum?" Tony interrupts. "Because I gotta say, knowing him now, there's no way you had to actually drag him onto the ride."

That surprises a laugh out of Bucky. "No," he says, "no, that one was all me. I took him out because he was just done getting over something horrific, and he still felt like shit. I didn't want him to miss out, so I called him a chicken and he nearly gave himself an asthma attack runnin' to the line."

Steve rolls his eyes. "If you haven't figured it out by now, I never could back down from a challenge," he says wryly. 

"No shit," Tony laughs. "But weren't you just as bad?" he asks, turning his attention back to Bucky. 

"Oh yeah," Bucky says, shrugging. "We were quite a pair."

Tony grins. "Steve told me a lot of stories, but I've been dying for the chance to hear your side of them," he informs Bucky. "C'mon; grilled cheese are like the only food I can make that doesn't come out of a box, we can talk while I cook."

"Okay," Bucky agrees, taking a couple of uncertain steps forward. "My memory's not the most reliable, though."

Tony scoffs. "Whose is?" he asks rhetorically. "Just ask Pepper, if it's not something to do with machinery I can't remember it."

Steve rolls his eyes. "It took him fourteen years to master 'please' and 'thank you,'" he informs Bucky. 

"I believe that," Bucky says.

Tony points an accusing finger at Steve. "Watch it, or you'll only be getting toast," he threatens. 

Steve smirks, but relents. "Remember Mrs Higgins? Her husband made the best bread in Brooklyn, and she used to bring us some."

"She did," Bucky agrees, leaning back against the kitchen counter and throwing a grin at Steve over his shoulder. "She was an angel. Used to look after you while you were sick and I had to work."

"Yeah," Steve says with a grin. "Her chicken noodle soup was the best. Never found any as good since."

"It wasn't that great," Bucky says. "You're just wearing rose-tinted glasses."

Steve punches Bucky in the shoulder. "You're just jealous because I always ate it all before you got a chance to have more than a bowl," he retorts, grinning. 

"Or that," Bucky concedes, grinning.

Steve grins. "You were always fond of Annabeth's pies," he remembers. "I think she was trying to woo you with those."

"Probably," Bucky agrees, "but I wasn't lookin' at her."

"That's right, you were dating Maryanne at the time, weren't you?"

"Was I?" Bucky asks. "I don't remember."

"You only dated her for about a month," Steve says thoughtfully. "Apparently it was a mutual break up."

Bucky shrugs, smiles. "If you say so."

* * *

Dinner goes relatively smoothly, Tony prompting the older two about different stories when things threaten to become awkward. It's only when he and Bucky are back on their floor, Steve in his room, that the blond realizes that he might be in trouble. He's been purposely ignoring the little signs that he's fucked, the same signs he recognized back before the war. They didn't mean anything good now, and they won't mean anything good now; Bucky probably doesn't want any sort of relationship beyond friendship right now, much less a romantic one with _Steve._

No matter how many times he tells himself that, however, Steve can't get the thought of it out of his mind. He used to daydream, in the wee hours of the morning when Bucky was still snoring away before he had to be up for work, about what it might be like, being with Bucky. Being Bucky's, and having Bucky be his. And now he finds himself doing the same thing, only... not just when he's alone. He and Bucky will be watching television, and Steve will wonder what how Bucky would react if Steve slid closer and leaned against him, if he pressed in close, maybe reached up for a kiss...

It's starting to affect his behavior, and in an effort to not give himself away, Steve tries to pull away from Bucky as subtly as he can, just enough to hopefully get his head on straight. He's not that successful; even _Tony,_ locked in his lab in an engineering frenzy, notices on his rare trips to the kitchen for blueberries and coffee. When he happens to catch Bucky frowning at the fridge as though it's personally offended him, Tony decides maybe it's time he repays one of those many favors he owes his godfather. "Hey, Barnes," he says before clapping a hand to the other man's shoulder - the right one, because Tony may have a diminished sense of self-preservation, but he does still have some left. "Problems with modern tech again?"

"Nope," Bucky says, closing the fridge door and straightening up. "My problems are older than you."

Tony hums thoughtfully. "As old as Steve?" he guesses. 

Bucky shrugs. "Can't remember that far back."

"Really? I might have something in the works that could help with that," Tony muses. "But that's not what we're talking about. We're talking about Steve's little awkward dance around you now, right?"

Bucky shifts uncomfortably. "What would you know about it?" he asks.

Tony shrugs. "Not much, except... well, I doubt you'd want to hear about my theories."

Bucky raises an eyebrow. "Try me."

"It's just that, whenever Steve was telling me stories about you, when I was growing up..." Tony hesitates, trying to decide how best to phrase what he needs to say. "A lot of times, it felt like he wasn't talking about a guy who was just his best friend."

Bucky blinks. "What do you mean?"

Tony sighs. "I mean, I'm not the best at reading people, but it sure seemed like Steve was talking about his significant other. Not his best friend."

"His significant other," Bucky repeats flatly. “Yeah, okay."

"Look, I just said I'm not the best at reading people, but it makes a certain amount of sense. How much have you guys talked about the past before our dinner last week?"

"We... haven't," Bucky says. "It's not been easy."

Tony shrugs. "Well, if I'm right about how he felt before, maybe our dinner stirred all those feelings up again."

"But-- we _didn't_ ," Bucky says. "Before. We weren't... _that_ , I'd _know_."

"You weren't," Tony agrees. "But maybe he wanted to be. Did you?"

"I-- I don't know," Bucky says, flushing. "No. No, of course not."

"Well that was convincing," Tony says sarcastically. "You know no one will care, right? At least, not anyone who actually knows you two."

"No one knows us two," Bucky points out. "Not anymore."

"We know you," Tony answers, voice gentle. "Here at the Tower. And we wouldn't care if you guys get together; hell, we'll be happy for you."

"I-- I don't know," Bucky says, distressed. "I thought I remembered-- But I was wrong, and I'm not that guy anymore, he has to know that. I can't give him... anything."

"You can give him happiness," Tony says, like it's the simplest thing on the world. "That's what it comes down to. He can make you happy, and you can make him happy. And that's all that matters, at the end of the day."

"You sound awfully confident about that," Bucky says darkly.

Tony sighs. "Barnes. I have known Steve _literally_ all my life. Trust me when I say that this? Ever since you broke into his apartment? It's the happiest I've seen him in _fifty years._ "

Bucky blinks, hesitates. "I'll think about it," he says. "Okay? That's the best I can do right now."

Tony thinks about it for a moment, then nods. "I'll take it, as long as you seriously consider talking to him."

"Have you mentioned this to him, too?" Bucky asks.

"Haven't run into him this week, but I asked him once," Tony says with a shrug. "Asked him what it was like to fall in love with someone, when I fell for Pepper. The way he talked about it... Well, he never used pronouns, and he looked like he always did whenever he talked about you."

Bucky rolls his eyes, but he can't hide the fact that he's at least a little bit endeared. "I'll think about it," he says again. "Properly, I promise."

"Good," Tony says. "Now move over, you're blocking the coffee machine."

Bucky rolls his eyes, and makes sure to flip Tony off as he makes his exit.

* * *

Things get even weirder after that. Bucky does think about what Stark told him, a little too much probably, but he can't do anything about it. Does he care about Steve? Sure. Does he _love_ him? Maybe. Does he feel ready to confront that, to take whatever Steve wants to give him and give whatever Steve wants in return? No. Bucky can't be sure if these feelings are his own, if Steve's feelings aren't left over from what he felt for a man who no longer exists, if Bucky himself exists at all. Trying to start something with Steve now would be a disaster.

But that doesn't mean he stops thinking about it. He even starts seeking Steve out, putting a stop to the awkward pattern of avoidance almost forcefully so that he can spend time with Steve and try to work out what it all means. So far he's been mostly unsuccessful; has only succeeded, in fact, in making things even more awkward. Tonight, for instance, they sit together in relative silence that feels far too intimate and watch a movie that neither of them are paying attention to. The spell is only broken by Steve's phone, which starts to ring abruptly and loudly, and Steve's pinched expression as he checks the screen before answering the call.

When he's done, he looks uncomfortable but resigned, and Bucky can't help but ask, "Everything okay?"

Steve sighs. "No. That was Hill; she's received word that there's a cell of Hydra agents nearby. Only a small one, so I'm going in first. Natasha is scheduled to meet me there; I'm going to do recon until she arrives."

"Oh," Bucky says, frowning. "But, you'll be okay, right? Do you want--"

"I'll be fine," Steve says dismissively as he pushes himself out of his seat. "I've done more dangerous stuff solo."

"Can't hurt for someone to have your back, though, can it?" Bucky asks.

"Nat will be there," Steve reminds Bucky. 

"All right," Bucky says. "When do you leave?"

"As soon as I grab my gear," Steve answers, already heading for the elevator. 

"Then I guess I'll see you when you get back," Bucky says, but Steve's already gone.

* * *

The next Bucky hears, Nat's radioed in to report Steve missing. "Recon scene is a mess," the spy reports. "He put up a fight, there's three bodies here."

"What?" Bucky demands. He shrugs off Tony, who has been tinkering with his arm a little, and is at Hill's side in a second. "He's _gone?_ "

Natasha doesn't seem surprised to hear Bucky's voice. "Well, unless he's suddenly gained the ability to become invisible and mute, yes."

"And there's nothing around to suggest where they might have taken him, or if he's even still alive?"

"Well his body isn't here, and he's too high level to think that Hydra would want him shot on sight," Natasha answers. "I haven't had a chance to look around for clues as to where they took him, but it looks like whoever he didn't kill went with them, because even thermal scans aren't turning up any bodies where there shouldn't be."

"But it's definitely Hydra?" Bucky demands.

There's a pause while Natasha checks the bodies. "Yep," she says, popping the last letter. "I recognize their faces from the suspect list."

Bucky spins to glare at Hill. "Where are they?"

Hill takes one look at the Bucky's expression, and doesn't hesitate to give him the coordinates; he'd probably just try to break out and go himself. "Hawkeye, Iron Man, go with him; bring Rogers back."

"With pleasure," Tony says darkly, Clint echoing the sentiment. 

* * *

It only takes them a matter of hours to reach Natasha, but in that time she's got a lead on another Hydra base not far from the first one, where she suspects Steve has been taken. They head straight out, and when they get there, they tear the place apart.

Bucky hasn't had a single thought since hearing that Steve is missing, but now all he can think about is burning the base and everyone in it to the ground. Once he's found Steve. "Where is he?" he snarls at the scumbag pinned beneath him, breaking another finger. " _Where is he?_ "

It takes very little persuasion before the man breaks. "A-- a holding cell, in the basement. Please--"

He reaches the cell right as Steve finally manages to jimmy the door open; Steve all but falls into Bucky's arms, and he blinks before squinting through two black eyes at Bucky. "What're you doing away from the Tower?" he asks; probably not the best greeting, but Steve will blame that on getting his head slammed into concrete too many times to count. 

"Rescuing your sorry ass," Bucky says, dragging Steve in close so he can support his weight. "Christ, what did they do to you?"

"Didn't like my sass, or the fact that I killed a couple of 'em," Steve says with a grunt as he leans into Bucky. "Got an extra gun?"

"Why, you think you're in any state to shoot one?" Bucky asks.

"I've still got a good hand, and my eyes are getting better by the minute," Steve retorts. "I've had worse odds; at least this time I've got you." A _boom_ shakes the walls, and Steve smiles, wincing when it reopens a split on his lip. "And Tony, apparently. Or was that Clint?"

"Either of them," Bucky answers. "Or both, I don't know. All I care about is getting you out of here."

"Well then gimme a gun so I can help."

"You don't need to help, you can't even walk."

"Oh my god, you dick, I have literally been doing this longer than you have," Steve complains. "I can't fight hand to hand and no way am I letting you carry me out of here like some damned damsel in distress."

"Steve," Bucky snaps. "Shut the fuck up."

"Make me," Steve retorts. "On your nine o'clock."

Bucky is already turning, and dispatches the asshole without disturbing Steve too much. "Relax, would you?"

"I'm unarmed in an enemy base, why the fuck should I relax?" Steve snaps. "Ten o'clock."

"I can fuckin' see, Steve," Bucky bites out, and the would-be assailant hits the floor. "You can't even stand up straight. You are not holding a firearm so close to my person while you are shaking this hard."

"I wouldn't be shaking if I didn't feel so fuckin' helpless," Steve mutters petulantly. "Noon," he adds, just to be a smartass. 

"I hate you," Bucky says, but he drops the guy all the same. "Come on, we're almost out."

"Move a little faster would you?" Steve gripes. "I'd like to get some ice for my ribs."

Bucky doesn't say anything to that, just holds Steve a little tighter and does as he's told. By the time they reach the others they're both breathing hard, and Bucky is pretty sure he's the only thing holding Steve up right now. "Can we get out of here please?" he rasps.

"Holy shit," Tony hisses. "Steve, what the fuck, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm - " _fine,_ he tries to say, but exhaustion crashes over him like a literal black wave when the adrenaline finally runs out, and Steve's out cold before he can finish his sentence, slumping against Bucky. 

It's only thanks to the amount of support Bucky is already providing that he doesn't drop Steve on the floor. "Steve?" he demands. "Steve!"

"He needs a hospital," Tony says. "Where's the closest hospital?"

"Half hour's drive, but I've already called," Hill reports over the comms. "They're expecting the quinjet on the roof."

Bucky grits his teeth and lifts Steve into his arms. "Then let's go."

* * *

For the first time in a long time, Steve wakes up slowly. It takes him a moment to get his bearings, and he doesn't relax much once he realizes that he's in a hospital; it's been almost thirty years since the last time he was injured badly enough to warrant hospitalization. He can't help the grunt of pain that escapes him when he tries to shift, to reach for the button to raise his bed, and he gives up on the effort. "Christ," he croaks. "What's a guy got to do to get a drink?"

"Ask nicely and not almost die in my arms," Bucky snarks, but it comes out a lot shakier than he means it to. A moment later, he's slipping a straw between Steve's lips and resisting the urge to smooth his hair away from his forehead. "Shit, Stevie."

Steve doesn't answer until he's gotten his drink, and then he gives Bucky a slight, painful smile. "Hey, I'm alive aren't I?"

"Barely," Bucky says. "And you wanted me to give you a gun? Fuckin' crazy."

Steve grumbles, but changes the topic. "Did you guys happen to get any intel from that base or did you just kill everyone inside?"

"I don't know and I don't care," Bucky says. "That's Nat's problem. You almost _died_."

"I'm fine," Steve says dismissively. "Or I will be in a few hours. Where is Nat, anyway?"

"I don't know," Bucky says again, because she only left an hour ago and she did tell him, but he hasn't exactly been in a position to listen lately. "Probably with Stark. Shit, I-- I need to call him."

Steve groans. "Oh man, he's going to hold this over my head forever."

"He was pretty shaken up, actually," Bucky says, already fumbling his way through a text to Tony. "We all were."

"It's not the first time I've been ambushed," Steve informs Bucky. 

"And that means we can't worry about you?" Bucky snaps.

Steve would shrug if his shoulders weren't currently bandaged. "It means you don't have to worry so much. I know how to handle myself."

"We don't doubt that," Bucky insists. "But it doesn't make seeing you like this any easier."

Steve sighs. "I'm fine," he repeats. "This isn't even the worst that I've had done to me."

"Jesus Christ, Steve!" Bucky cries. "You're not listening, I can't--" His phone buzzes in his hand and he glances down at it before getting abruptly to his feet. "Stark will be here in five. I'm gonna go find a doctor."

"Wait, Bucky, what - " The door swings shut behind Bucky, leaving Steve to sit there, bewildered, until Tony comes in. 

"Hey champ," Tony says, brightly, for all that he looks like he hasn't slept in three days. "Scared the shit out of us back there. You in any pain? I told them to give you the good stuff."

Steve laughs. "Even the good stuff doesn't work for long," he says. "But I'm just a bit sore."

Tony sighs and drops into the chair Bucky vacated. "Well, it's better than agony," he says. "What happened to the one-armed bandit? I thought he'd still be weeping at your bedside."

"He bolted," Steve says with a frown. "I'm not sure why."

"Were you giving him your usual 'I don't know why you're freaking out I've had so much worse than this and one time I actually did die so get out of my face and let me go take on the world' shtick?"

"I didn't mention the actually dying," Steve says. "But yeah."

"Yeah, no wonder," Tony sighs. "He'll be around somewhere. Won't have gone far."

"I hope not," Steve says worriedly. "He seemed off, though."

"Yeah," Tony says, "because you almost died right in front of him."

"Why does everyone keep bringing that up?" Steve groans. "I'm _fine,_ and it wasn't even the first time!"

"It's not the first time for us," Tony agrees, "and even so it was terrifying. But it was the first time for _him_. Can you blame him for freaking out?"

"No," Steve admits. "No, I can't blame him."

"You've been out for three days," Tony tells him. "That man hasn't left your side once. He's been scared out of his mind ever since he found out you were missing. But you think that's dumb, so."

Steve blinks. " _Three_ days?" he demands. 

"Three days," Tony repeats. "Those assholes really did a number on you. And yeah, I know, _you're okay_. But it really didn't look that way for a really long time."

It takes Steve a moment to respond, still caught up in the realization that he was out for way longer than he thought. "I didn't - I had no idea."

"No shit," Tony snorts.

"Wait, you said Bucky was here the whole time?"

"I'd be surprised if he's even taken a break to pee," Tony says.

Under any other circumstances, Steve would make a face at the mental image, but he's currently a bit stunned. "I don't - I don't understand. I thought he - we - "

"You thought what?" Tony asks, surprisingly gentle.

"I didn't think he cared care that much," Steve admits quietly after a moment. 

"Steve," Tony says. "You're the only thing in this world that he does care about."

"Yeah, but - I didn't think I was that important to him, that he wouldn't leave for three days."

"Well, what do you think now?" Tony asks.

"I don't know," Steve says helplessly. 

Tony sighs, and stands up. "I'm going to go find him," he says, "and then I'm going to drag him in here, by his hair if I have to, and you're going to _talk to him_."

Steve would bite his lip if it wasn't split. "Okay," he says, a bit reluctantly. "God, when the hell did _you_ become the mature one here?"

"When your teenage sweetheart came back from the dead and you forgot that you were an adult," Tony tells him. "We can't _both_ be man-children, we'd never survive."

Steve laughs, wincing when it pulls at his ribs. "Good point," he concedes with a smile. 

"I'll be back, okay?" Tony says, already halfway out the door. "Try not to pull your stitches while I'm gone."

"That was _one time!_ " Steve yells at Tony's back. "And you don't have room to talk!"

But Tony pretends not to hear him, and then he's gone.

An agonising thirty minutes later, Tony reappears with a sheepish-looking Bucky, shoves him sharply into the room, and then closes the door. Bucky actually looks kind of betrayed by this development, and shoots the door a resentful glare before turning back to Steve. "I don't think he's going to let us out anytime soon," he offers.

"It's payback," Steve informs him. "I did the same to him and his first girlfriend when he was seventeen. Nice girl, but they split up because they were heading to different sides of the country."

"So what does that make me, your first boyfriend?" Bucky quips, but it falls a little flat.

"If you want to be," Steve answers, making himself look Bucky in the eye. 

Bucky falters, and his eyes go wide. "Jesus, Steve."

"I don't - I was in love with you, before the war," Steve blurts. "I know you're different now, you're not the same person, but you're still Bucky, and I still care about you. I still want you."

Bucky lets out a shaky breath and wets his lips. "I felt the same, before," he admits. "I actually thought we were together for a little while back there, but. Obviously not."

"We weren't," Steve agrees, "but I wanted to be. I just - you almost always had a girl on your arm, and I didn't want to put us and your family in danger, if anyone found out."

"I get that," Bucky says softly.

"But now... It's not dangerous, and for seventy years my biggest regret was not telling you how I felt - until I found out you were still alive, then I regretted not going after you," Steve confesses. 

"It's not your fault," Bucky says. "Any of it. I'm starting to get myself back now, and it's all thanks to you."

Steve smiles slightly. "Well, you're doing most of it on your own," he says gently. "And I'm proud of you."

"Thanks," Bucky says, and returns the smile. "Me too."

Silence falls, but for once it isn't awkward. It's expectant, but not oppressive. Steve is eventually the one to break it. "I meant what I said, earlier. I still care about you - a lot - and if you want to, I'd like to give being together a try."

"For a while I didn't know what I wanted," Bucky confesses quietly. "But hearing that you were missing, and seeing you like that... Fuck, Stevie, I can't ever go through that again, not without telling you first."

"Telling me what?" Steve asks, heart in his throat. 

"That I love you."

Steve's breath catches in his lungs. "You do?"

"Yeah," Bucky says with a soft little smile. "Yeah, Steve, I really do."

All Steve can do is stare at Bucky for a long moment before he breaks out in a grin wide enough to reopen the split in his lip. "C'mere," he says, reaching out with one hand for Bucky. 

"If you stop hurting yourself, jeez," Bucky laughs, but he's already halfway across the room and when he slides his hand into Steve's he squeezes tight.

Steve squeezes back just as tightly, tugging until Bucky's sitting next to him on the hospital bed. "I love you, too," he says quietly but no less sincere. 

Bucky grins, finally gives in to the urge to stroke Steve's hair. "That's pretty lucky, huh?"

Steve grins as he leans into the touch. "Yeah, pretty lucky," he agrees. 

"So what now?" Bucky asks softly.

"Well, I should be all healed up in a day or so," Steve says thoughtfully, "but I'm hoping you won't make me wait that long to get a kiss."

"Your lip is literally bleeding right now," Bucky teases. "What makes you think I want to kiss you?"

"Because I'm fucking adorable," Steve says with a shit-eating grin. "Even when I've got a bloody lip. Grab a tissue, that'll take care of the blood."

"You are adorable," Bucky agrees, bypassing Steve's open hand so that he can dab at Steve's lip himself. "But you're also still in the doghouse for scaring the shit out of me."

Steve pouts. "Seriously? Not even a 'we got our heads out of our asses' celebratory kiss?"

Bucky laughs, cups his hand gently under Steve's chin. "I never could say no to you," he murmurs.

"I'll try to remember to use that power for good," Steve teases. "Now get down here; I've been waiting almost eighty years for this."

And what can Bucky do but comply?

The kiss is just about everything Steve ever remembers dreaming about, and he brings up his free hand to tangle in Bucky's hair; when they pull apart, Steve's the first to speak. "You better not fuckin' disappear on me again, Barnes," he says, voice slightly hoarse with emotion. 

"Never," Bucky promises, dips in for another kiss. "Wherever you go, I go."

"Good," Steve says fiercely. 

Bucky smiles and kisses Steve's forehead. "Good."

Steve smiles, then nods towards the door. "Go tell Tony to quit eavesdropping, would you?"

Bucky laughs and gets to his feet. "Yes sir."

* * *

Steve's in the hospital for a few more days, and when they finally get back to the tower they're immediately ambushed by Tony and Pepper. Bucky knows that Tony cares about Steve, and he's been worried out of his mind, but still. Steve is exhausted, and Tony looks way too excited to be appropriate. "Guys," he says tiredly. "This isn't really a great time for a welcome home party. We haven't even sat down yet."

"We know," Pepper says, laying a hand on Tony's arm and continuing in a tone that brooks no arguments, "which is why we are going to wait until you have sat down before we tell you the news."

Steve perks up at the mention of news, and pokes Bucky in the side. "C'mon, help me to the couch, I wanna hear their news."

Bucky rolls his eyes, but he's smiling as he does as Steve asked. Tony and Pepper settle opposite them, and Bucky notes with mild interest that Tony's leg is bouncing with what can only be nerves. Before he can ask, though, Tony speaks.

"I think I'm older than you, now," he says to Steve. "Isn't that weird? You changed my diapers, you should be in a zimmer frame right now, but here I am with grey in my beard and you're still pretty as a picture."

Steve rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. "Flattery will get you everywhere," he says. "And yeah, if you want to go off of physical condition, you are older than me."

"Reckon you'll outlive me?" Tony asks, more jittery than ever.

Steve frowns slightly. "Unless I get killed, probably," he says slowly. "Tony, this is _good_ news, right?"

"Well, I guess it depends how you look at it," Tony laughs, with a nervous glance at Pepper, who takes his hand. "And whether you think I'll be a good dad."

Steve stares at Tony blankly for a moment, uncomprehending, but then it clicks. "Seriously?" he demands, grinning like a loon. 

Tony nods, and now he's grinning, too. "And you seriously need to be godfather, because you're the only person alive who knows how to handle a tiny Stark."

"You dipshit, of course I'll be the godfather!" Steve exclaims, excited. "Oh my God, making me think you're about to tell me you've got cancer or something, Jesus Christ."

"Oh please," Tony says, "cancer is not going to be the thing that kills me. Although I've heard parenthood is terminal."

Steve grins. "Well, I think you'll do fine. You managed to fight off an alien invasion, after all."

"I hope you're right," Tony says, still beaming. "I'm equal parts excited and terrified."

"Congratulations," Bucky offers. "Good luck baby proofing the tower."

Tony pales. "Oh my god."

Pepper rolls her eyes while Steve laughs. "You've got a few months to worry about that," Steve says reassuringly. 

"And I am not letting you take the baby down to your lab," Pepper adds. 

"My lab is perfectly safe!" Tony protests.

"DUM-E puts out at least three fires every time you're in there," Pepper says dryly. 

"Okay," Tony says, "you may have a point."

"Only 'may'?" Pepper asks, raising an eyebrow; Steve can tell she's fighting back a smile, however. 

"All right!" Tony huffs. "No babies in the lab, jeez."

Pepper smiles, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Tony's cheek, and Steve hums thoughtfully. "Does this mean there's also a marriage in your future?"

Tony's face _flames_. "What? Uhh, what?"

"What?" Steve asks innocently. "You two are great together, and now you're starting a family, it's a reasonable question."

"I could ask you two the same thing," Tony shoots back. "You guys have been courting for longer than we've been alive."

Steve wags a finger at Tony. "No, we haven't. We weren't even together before the war; we only just got together a few days ago, and you know it."

"I said courting, not dating," Tony says. "It's different, isn't it? Like flirting?" Bucky laughs, and he shakes his head. "Whatever. The point is, I'm not getting married until the couple of the past _two_ centuries does."

"Wait," Bucky says. "You're serious?"

Pepper rolls her eyes. "He is," she confirms. "Not that I mind waiting; weddings are a bitch to plan."

"But," Bucky says. "But we're _men_."

"Same-sex marriage is legal," Pepper says with a gentle smile. "It was just legalized."

"Now I know you're pullin' my leg."

"They're not," Steve says. 

"Here," Pepper adds, pulling out her phone and bringing up Google, typing for a moment before showing her phone to Bucky. 

"Oh," Bucky says, staring at the phone in his hands. "Oh my god."

Steve looks at Bucky, concern clear on his features. "Buck? You okay?"

"Yeah," Buckys, looking up at last and handing Pepper her phone back. "Yeah, I just. Never thought I'd see the day, is all."

Pepper smiles. "It's been a long time coming," she agrees. "But it's legal, now. You still have assholes who are against it, but they're becoming the minority."

"That's amazing," Bucky says, with a glance at Steve that's almost nervous. "Don't you think?"

Steve, however, is smiling as he nods. "Yeah, I do," he agrees. "I think it's pretty damn amazing."

"So then my point stands," Tony says, satisfied. "Don't go meddling in my love life until you've sorted your own out."

"Fine," Steve sighs, but there's a good smile on his face as he rolls his eyes. "Spoilsport."

Tony grins, takes Pepper's hand. "Well, we'll get out of your hair. Feel better, yeah?"

"I will," Steve says with a smile. "Now go pamper your girl."

Pepper smirks. "Oh, he already is."

* * *

The next few months are chaotic, what with taking down the remaining cells of Hydra, and Steve especially having to talk Tony down from a couple of panic attacks when he gets overwhelmed by thinking too long on how he's going to become a father. Steve and Bucky stay on what's become their floor of the Tower, and every night they watch movies or television in the living room before retiring to what used to be Steve's bedroom, though Bucky now spends so many nights there that it might as well be theirs. Steve doesn't mind - he loves it, in fact; he hadn't realized how much he missed sleeping in the same bed as someone else until he did it again. Having Bucky at his back again, in the same bed, lets them both sleep much better at night.

When Pepper is six months pregnant, Steve and Bucky have just finished laughing at Tony, who'd barged into their floor demanding all the peanut butter fudge ice cream they had - Steve and Bucky both had one hell of a sweet tooth - and Steve's still chuckling when he catches Bucky's gaze from the corner of his eye. "He's ridiculous, but I love him," Steve grins. 

"I know," Bucky says warmly. "He's lucky to have you."

Steve sighs. "And I'm lucky to have him," he says. "I just want to see him happy, and he's had far too little happiness in his life until now."

"He'll make a good dad," Bucky says, "won't he?"

Steve snorts. "He's got the best example of what _not_ to do," he says, slightly bitter. "And I'm not going to let Tony follow in his father's footsteps that closely."

Bucky's mouth twists at the mention of Howard, and he has to take a moment. "I don't think that's the example he'll be looking to," he offers finally.

Steve glances at Bucky with a soft, grateful look. "I did my best," he says thoughtfully. "But if I'm gonna do this again, I think I'd like a partner."

Bucky laughs. "I don't know the first thing about babies, Rogers."

"Well, I can take care of the babies if you take care of me," Steve returns, grinning at Bucky. "What do you say?"

"Don't I already take care of you?" Bucky teases.

"Well, let's make it official then," Steve replies, though he's now smiling nervously. 

Bucky's eyes widen. "Official?"

"Yeah," Steve says. "I mean, I love you - I've loved you for literally decades. If you want to, I'd like to marry you."

Bucky's smile is soft and fond. "Sap," he says. "I thought you'd never ask."

Steve's smile blooms into a dopey grin. "So you'll marry me?"

"Yes," Bucky says, beaming. "I love you."

Steve grins, moving closer to Bucky so he can pull the other into a kiss. "Good, because I love you, too."

* * *

Their wedding is simple; it takes place at the old church that Steve and Bucky used to attend, the priest willing to perform the ceremony for Steve, who's continued his attendance throughout the past decades. Only the Avengers and a few other friends attend - Steve and Tony pay for Peggy to attend, paying for her plane tickets and assistant, and Peggy's family comes with her as well. Steve and Bucky get dressed up at Pepper and Sam's insistence, and Steve's not ashamed to say that he cries more than a little when he and Bucky say their vows - but that's okay, because Bucky's crying, too.

Their honeymoon is a trip to the Grand Canyon, something Bucky had always wanted to see and Steve never went to, not wanting to be there without Bucky, but the view is just as breathtaking as they'd ever imagined. When they get back to the Tower, it's business as usual - at least until Pepper goes into labor while Tony's proposing to her. Stephanie Jane Stark-Potts is born at the Tower, surrounded by Earth's mightiest heroes. Pepper's the first to hold her, and then Tony, and when Tony reverently passes Stephanie to Steve, Steve falls in love with her just as quickly as he had with her father.

Bucky is almost as smitten, and doesn't complain one bit when he and Steve start being begged to babysit only a month or so in. In fact, he's more than a little touched; it would be more than understandable if the new parents were wary about leaving their baby with an ex-assassin, let alone the very same ex-assassin who murdered their baby's grandparents, but they don't seem to have any doubts. Bucky makes sure to pay Tony and Pepper back for this kindness by taking the best care of Stephanie he possibly can.

It's not a hardship. Stephanie is a sweet baby, and the look Steve gets in his eyes when he holds her is enough to melt any remaining ice around Bucky's heart. It's also enough to start giving him ideas, but he sits on them for now, uncertain about his own conviction and Steve's reception. It's one thing to look after someone else's baby, to take excellent care of her for a few nights before handing her back to her parents; it's another thing entirely to be the parents themselves. Bucky can handle Stephanie in small doses, sure, but what would happen if she was around all the time? Would Steve want to take the risk?

* * *

Tony and Pepper are married at a beautiful ceremony on a gorgeous afternoon. Pepper looks stunning and Tony looks younger than he has in years, and Steve cries even more than he had at his own wedding, stood at Tony's side with an eight-month-old Stephanie in his arms. Only Natasha sees Bucky cry, but he doesn't think she'll tell; her cheeks are wet, too.

The party afterwards, in true Stark style, is enormous and lavish and packed full of guests, each and every one of whom seem determined to dance with Tony or Pepper or both. Stephanie gets fussy after being passed between her parents one too many times, so Steve offers to take her, and that's how he and Bucky end up sitting on the edge of the dancefloor furthest from the booming speakers, Stephanie fast asleep on Steve's lap. Bucky can't look away.

"Having fun?" he asks, when Steve glances over and catches him looking.

Steve grins. "Yeah," he says, giving Stephanie a tender smile. "What about you? Itching to hit the dance floor?"

"Nah," Bucky says, his own smile softening. "I'm good sitting right here."

Steve grins at Bucky, letting silence fall between them. After a few moments, however, he asks, "You ever thought about having any of our own?" He nods at Stephanie. 

Bucky's eyes widen. "Yeah," he says. "I-- I just figured, y'know, that we couldn't."

Steve tilts his head. "Why not?" he asks, regarding Bucky curiously. 

"Because of my history," Bucky says, "and because we're, y'know."

"The next closest thing to immortal?" Steve guesses with a wry twist to his lips. "You're a better man than you give yourself credit for, Buck. And if we can give some children a better life - if we adopt - or if we use a surrogate, or whatever, I think you'll be a great father, and I don't think our age should stand in the way."

"But won't that be awful?" Bucky asks, with a meaningful glance at Tony before his gaze drops to Stephanie, his expression stricken. "Watching them grow old?"

"It is," Steve says softly, glancing at Tony, where he's spinning Pepper around the dance floor. "But it's better than being alone."

"You're not alone," Bucky says, reaching out to grab Steve's hand. "You never have to be alone again."

"I know," Steve says with a smile, squeezing Bucky's hand. "But I think we could make some kids' lives better."

Bucky smiles, his heart so full it feels like it might burst. "I think we could, too."

"Maybe give it a while, but yeah, I think we could," Steve says, still smiling. 

"Well, we got our hands full with this one right now," Bucky teases, his fond gaze lighting once more upon Stephanie. "If we end up having to pick names, though, I'm vetoing Antonia right now."

Steve laughs. "After how he named his daughter after you?" he teases. 

Bucky blinks. "How’s that?"

Steve gives Bucky a fond look. "Jane is the feminine version of James."

"Oh my god," Bucky breathes, whipping his head around to stare at Tony across the room. "How long have you known that?"

"Since they named her," Steve says with a laugh. "There was no other reason to make her middle name Jane, other than they couldn't do anything with Buchanan."

"You could've told me," Bucky complains, but he's still smiling. "Goddamn it. He's never going to let me live this down, is he?"

Steve laughs. "Never," he assures Bucky, snickering. 

Bucky rolls his eyes. "Maybe Antonia for a middle name."

Steve grins. "I love you, you know that?"

Bucky grins back. "I love you too."


End file.
